


Need You

by LoveLeah



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLeah/pseuds/LoveLeah
Summary: Luka knows the difference between what he wants and what he needs. He needs to win the state championship and sign with a professional team before the end of his senior year. He needs to keep his family from finding out about him. He needs to focus on the things he needs and stops thinking about all the things he wants.But when he has to room with his new teammate Sergio,  all abs and tattoos and sweet smiles every day, all he can do is want, want, want.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I've been working on this story for a while because I love college sports romances and thought it would be fun to write one about Sergio and Luka. I hope you guys like it!

Even though he was jet lagged, Luka woke up before his alarm. He sat up and sighed, opening his mouth wide and rotating his jaw and neck until they cracked. He’d woken up the same way every day since he got back to campus a week ago: achy from grinding his teeth at night, sore from the thin dorm mattress, sweaty from the humid summer air. Minnesota, where Luka was going to school on a soccer scholarship, was freezing in the winter but hot and humid as Croatia in the summer, and the air conditioning in his dorm was apparently broken this year.  
  
Luka dressed and went for his morning run, getting even sweatier and sorer. He passed a few other guys from the team as he ran the path beside the small lake a few blocks from campus, and they nodded at him quickly without taking out their earbuds.  
  
After his run he stepped into dorm bathroom, loud and echoey and empty, turned on only the cold water and let himself stand under it for long moments, cooling off; swaying with exhaustion. He’d flown back from Croatia a week ago after spending a month with his family over the summer. He’d spent his weeks at home lying on beaches and working out and playing cards with his family, and had spent the flight back to the U.S. telling himself, _I’ll do better this year._ He’d ended the last semester so stressed out and guilty that he felt like he’d never get back home; like he’d be trapped in his tiny florescent dorm with math textbooks in front of him and papers to write and missed calls from his mom on his phone for the rest of his life. When he finally stepped out of his gate at the airport in Zagreb he’d seen his mom and sister waiting for him with big smiles and waves and had dropped himself into their tight, warm embraces and barely kept from crying. The weight of all the things he'd spent the year away from them wanting to do and not doing had hung around his neck like a medal. It had earned him their love, but it was so heavy it hurt, and their arms around him felt like the only thing keeping him from drowning. 

  
On the flight back to Minnesota, Luka had imagined the year ahead of him exactly how he wanted it to be: He would stop wanting things he wasn't supposed to want. He would have a great season and score more goals than last year. He would get A’s in all his classes. He would make his family proud. He wouldn’t run so hard and far every morning before practice that he hurt himself. He would _play_ in the conference final, not watch it from the sidelines. He would get bought by a professional team. He would make himself not feel lonely, because it was stupid and weak and pointless anyway.

But it had been hard not to feel that as he landed in a cold, busy airport with no one to greet him, got in a cab driven by a guy who didn’t say a word to him, and set his one suitcase down in an empty dorm room.

Today would be better, because it was the first day of preseason training, and he would get to see and talk to his teammates, and even though they were truly _just_ his teammates and not his _friends_, he still felt a pulse of excitement strong enough to finally make him shut off the cold water and step out of the shower.  
  
Luka dressed in his training gear and walked the short few blocks from his dorm to the practice field. He could smell the fresh cut grass and hear the sound of balls being kicked and of guys laughing and yelling before he even stepped through the gate, and he smiled, which felt good and then made him laugh a little at himself for being so fucked up that smiling felt special.  
  
“Luka!” he heard from a few paces behind him as he stepped onto the field. He recognized Karim’s loud, deep voice and quickly turned toward him, grinning. Karim jogged the short distance between them and slapped him, hard and casual, on the arm. “How was your break?” he asked Luka, ambling onto the field and looking around, waving at a few of their other teammates.  
  
“It was good,” Luka said, taking Karim in as he walked a half a pace behind him: he’d clearly been working hard to stay in shape over the summer, and looked even more fit than he had at the end of last season.

Luka and Karim were two of only a few seniors on the team, so they’d played together for three years. They weren’t friends, but Luka knew him as well as he knew anyone in the country. Karim was calm and about a thousand times more laid back than Luka, but he was skilled and had scored more goals than anyone on the team last season, and Luka was glad to see that he seemed to be ready to take their final year as seriously as Luka was. “How was your summer?” Luka asked Karim, and then listened happily as Karim went on about his friends and his training schedule and where he'd travelled.

  
“Anyway,” Karim said, smiling down at Luka, “I’m happy to be back. We’re going to tear it up this season, right?” Luka opened his mouth to ask Karim what he thought about the season or whether he’d met any of the freshmen or where he was living when someone called Karim’s name and they both looked up to see Rafa, Karim’s best friend on the team, standing in the middle of the field waving Karim over. Karim nodded at Luka, slapped him on the back again, and turned quickly to jog toward Rafa with a big, beaming smile stretching his lips.  
  
Luka wandered further onto the field and said hi to a few groups of guys. They all seemed genuinely happy to see him, but most people were absorbed in conversations with their friends that he didn’t want to interrupt, so he sat down on the soft, trimmed grass and started stretching.  
  
He heard his name called in the coach’s firm, quiet voice and looked up to see Zidane walking toward him along with a younger guy in warm ups.  
  
“Hi,” Luka said as the two men came to stand above him. He was always slightly in awe of Zidane, who had been an amazing professional player before he started coaching, but right now, the guy standing next to Zidane stole every ounce of Luka's attention.  
  
He was tall, covered all over in sharp muscles and bronzed skin and swaths of tattoos. He had a thick, dark beard around wide lips that split into a smile like Luka would expect to see on a celebrity, teeth bright white and eyes sparkling in a way thay made Luka feel dazed. “This is Sergio Ramos,” Zidane told Luka. “He’s a transfer center back.”  
  
“Hi,” Luka said again.  
  
“This is Luka Modric,” Zidane said, motioning down to Luka and looking at Sergio. “He’s the guy I was telling you about. The best player on our team.”  
  
Luka forced a smile. He’d had coaches and teammates say things like that to him before, and his parents had been telling him that kind of thing most of his life, but he hated hearing it. He imagined that when people told Karim that he was a great player and that the team wouldn’t work without him, Karim felt happy and proud and flattered, but Luka felt like another weight was being hung around his neck.  
  
“I’m really excited to play with you,” Sergio said in a thickly accented voice, his wide, white smile still in place as he reached a hand down for Luka to shake. Luka reached up and looked at Sergio’s hand as it wrapped around his smaller one, stared too long at Sergio’s darker skin and the dark rose tattooed on the back of his hand. Luka pulled his hand back and nodded, and thencZidane and Sergio walked away and Luka went back to stretching and stretching and stretching, but he couldn't get the tension out of his muscles.  
  
He watched in snuck glances as Sergio was introduced to a few of the other guys. He heard him speak in Spanish to some of the players, and noticed that he made almost everyone he met laugh and smile, and he understood why. Luka had read books where people were described as magnetic, but he’d never really got it before. But after a moment of interaction with Sergio, he understood: he wanted Sergio’s dark, sparkling eyes on him, wanted his bright, genuine looking smile, wanted to his warm hands back on his skin.  
  
So he avoided Sergio as much as he could in practice for the rest of the week. He watched him from a distance, to get an idea of how he played and how Luka could best play alongside him, but he didn’t talk to him. And he was sure Sergio didn’t notice, because everyone else on the team seemed to want to talk to him all the time, crowding around him after practice and asking him to hang out after training was done.  
  
Sergio was strong—Luka knew that from just looking at him, but he was surprised at how well he used his strength on the field, muscling other players off the ball and winning headers during set pieces. He was good at reading the ball, knowing when and where people were going to shoot or dribble. His passing could use work, and if he'd been Karim or one of the freshmen or basically anyone else, Luka would have offered him some advice or asked him if he wanted to practice together. But he wasn't a skinny freshman--he was tall and tattooed and constantly taking off his shirt and rolling up his shorts so that almost every inch of his muscled body was obscenely displayed, sweaty and shiny in the sun. And so Luka didn't offer to help him, even when he made stupid mistakes in scrimmages, giving the ball away close to goal by trying to do some clever dribble or risky pass.  
  
At the end of the first week of practice, the team had to vote in a new captain and vice captain. Luka stood facing his locker as an assistant coach told everyone to write down their votes on tiny tears of paper he passed out and put them in a bucket in the middle of the room. Luka sat down and pressed his paper to his knee and carefully, slowly wrote down _Karim_. Karim wasn’t a very vocal leader but was well liked and a good player, and he was one of only a few seniors on the team, and obvipusly Luka wanted the captaincy like he wanted to _breathe, _but if he voted himself into it, it wouldn't really even count. He wrote _Toni_ next, because he really couldn't think of anyone else to write. There were a lot of good players on the team, but not many who Luka really thought could put the team on their back if they needed to 

Luka carefully folded his paper and put it in the box, trying not to think too much about how everyone else was voting and just quietly hoping. He loved leading the team on the pitch and helping other players when he could, and he knew that captaining the team, especially if they won the championship this season, would look good to any scouts that came to watch games.  
  
Luka quickly showered and changed into his regular clothes. He said goodbyes to a few of the other guys, talked to Karim, whose locker was next to his, for a few minutes, and then walked back to his dorm. The team didn’t practice over the weekend during preseason, so he turned off his lights and went to bed early, settling in for a long, lonely two days.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days after he’d gotten back to campus, Luka had to move dorm rooms. He’d been elected captain, which has made his mom so happy she almost cried when he called her and told her. Luka was happy too--Zidane had called him Saturday morning to tell him and had ended his call with a brief, “I’m glad you got it, Luka,” and Luka had felt like he was floating all morning.

Now, though, Luka was rolling his suitcase up to his new room, so tense he had a headache throbbing behind his eyes. Sergio, the new defender that Luka didn’t know and was afraid to talk to, had been elected vice captain, and so he and Luka were supposed to room together. Luka wanted to be normal; wanted to feel excited to hang out with Sergio and to get to know him and to hopefully, finally make a friend like his mom had been hoping he would for the last three years, but all he felt was dread, tight in his chest.

Sergio was cool and charismatic and seemed nice, and Luka could already tell he was a good player and a good leader--all of that had helped him get the vice captaincy despite only being with the team for a week, which Luka had worked hard not to be annoyed about--and if he’d had more time, Luka probably could have gotten used to Sergio and been able to enjoy all those things without thinking way too much about all the other parts of Sergio that made him feel hot and sick and guilty. But rooming together would give Luka no space to get used to Sergio the way he needed to--rooming together meant changing together, sleeping a few feet from each other, seeing each other first thing in the morning.

Luka had to take a deep breath in and out to keep his hand from shaking as he unlocked the door.

“Hey, captain!” Sergio said as soon as Luka stepped into the room. He had been sprawled back on one of the beds, but he stood and quickly moved toward Luka, holding out a hand, which Luka slapped in a half-handshake half-high five. “Congrats, man,” Sergio said, smiling down at him.

“You, too,” Luka said flatly, keeping his face blank. “I’m looking forward to captaining the team with you this season.”

Sergio’s smile dropped a little, then came back. “Me too,” he said. “Hey, so I didn’t think about it before, but we’re probably the worst people to room together because neither of us have any stuff.” Luka hadn’t thought about it either, but that was true. They were two of the only international students on the team: Luka had one suitcase, and it looked like Sergio had two. Luka's American roommate last year had brought a mini fridge, a TV, and a bunch of video games from his parents’ place, which was only a couple hours away. Luka had brought his laptop, his phone, and his favorite clothes with him, while everything else stayed in his room in Croatia. He’d been a little more sentimental his freshman year, bringing pictures and books and posters, but after moving back and forth for the last three summers, he’d learned to travel light.

Luka’s mom had spent hours fussing over his suitcase, trying to get him to pack more stuff, telling him how sad it would be to live all year with just the few things he was bringing. He hadn’t thought about it when he’d been sleeping on his own in his last room, but looking around the dorm now, Luka thought that maybe his mom was right. The walls were a cold white; the room was crowded with two beds, two desks, and two dressers, all made of pale wood, and Luka and Sergio’s bags, but otherwise, it was empty.

“Yeah,” Luka said after a moment.

Sergio paused, clearly waiting for Luka to say more. When he didn't, Sergio said, his voice fast, “So I was thinking we could get flags—like, the Croatian flag and the Spanish flag. Lucas told me you’re from Croatia. I thought it would make it a little more homey. We don’t want it to look like we’re serial killers if we bring people back or something.”

The idea of either of them bringing "people"--by which Sergio obviously meant _girls--_back to the dorm was too much for Luka to think about, let alone respond to, and he really didn’t want to get any further into a conversation about hook ups, so, quickly and stupidly, he told a joke. “So maybe I shouldn’t hang up the locks of hair from all the people I’ve killed?” he asked, pointing a thumb towards his suitcase. Sergio blinked, and Luka blushed and thought, _ stop being such a fucking weirdo,_ and then Sergio grinned and then snorted a surprised laugh.

“That was funny,” he said, smiling down at Luka. Luka looked away, moving toward the open bed, pulling his suitcase behind him. “I’m actually glad we get to room together,” Sergio said from behind him. “I’ve been wanting to get to know each other, but we haven’t gotten to talk much at practice.” _Because I’ve been avoiding you,_ Luka thought, but before he could feel too awkward about it, Sergio continued talking. “Do you want to go to the store together and pick up a few things for the room? Hang out a little bit?”

Luka knew that he should say no, if only because he wanted to say yes so badly, but a trip to the store felt like something safe and simple he could give himself, when he was facing a whole year of denying himself over and over, so he heaved his suitcase onto his bed, turned to face Sergio, and nodded.

While they walked to the home store a few blocks from campus, Sergio talked about his family and Luka thought about how Sergio was tall in a way that didn’t make Luka feel short and responded to Sergio’s stories and questions in as few words as possible.

“My little brother plays with a youth team in Spain. He’s a defender, too, but he’s terrible. They had a game this morning and guess what the score was?” Sergio said, talking quickly and animatedly, his English good and quick even with his heavy accent.

“What?”

“Twelve to four. _Twelve_! I called him this morning and gave him so much shit. He said none of the goals were his fault but my dad said they all were. But he’s a genius, so I don’t know why he even bothers playing. Do you have siblings?”

“A sister,” Luka said. Sergio paused, waiting for Luka to continue. Luka ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to decide what to say about his sister--that he missed her, that she would get along great with Sergio because they were both loud and beautiful, that she hated watching soccer when anyone other than Luka was playing, that she’d broken her leg over the summer and gotten her cast off that morning . Finally, he told Sergio, “She’s four years younger than me.” Sergio frowned for half a second and then told another story about his brother.

Their conversation continued like that, Sergio talking about his family and his home in Spain and his time in the U.S. and Luka listening closely but struggling to figure out how to respond without boring Sergio or saying something weird.

Finally, they got to the store, and their conversation moved to their favorite colors and what they needed for the room and which teams they liked.

Sergio grabbed a cart and leaned forward onto it, crossing his arms over the handle, making his muscles flex under his tattoos. Sergio was saying something about pillows when he noticed Luka looking and paused, and Luka didn’t look away quickly enough. “Do you have any tattoos?” Sergio asked. Luka shook his head, looking down at the scuffed tile floor. “Do you want some?”

“No,” he said honestly. He’d thought about it throughout the week as he’d admired Sergio’s tattoos: they were bold and distracting and imposing, but Sergio was all of those things even without his tattoos. Luka thought the dark ink would just look out of place on his own pale skin.

Sergio smiled at Luka. “I think you would look cool with one,” he said. “What’s your favorite club? My first tattoo was for Real Madrid.”

Luka told Sergio the name of his favorite club in the Croatian league, which Sergio had never heard of. After a pause, he said, “I don’t really watch La Liga, but I like Barcelona.”

Sergio’s eyes widened and he grabbed Luka’s shoulders, turning Luka to face him and staring down at him. Luka managed to keep his face blank only because he had years of practice, but he struggled not to look how he felt--nervous and twitchy and _needy_\--with Sergio’s big, warm hands moving him where Sergio wanted him and holding him there; with Sergio’s brown eyes looking intently down at him. “Are you joking?” Luka shook his head. “Luka,” Sergio said, his voice solemn. “if I ever see you in a Barca jersey I will tear it off you.” _Fuck,_ Luka thought, stepping back out of Sergio’s grip.

He turned away from Sergio and took the handle of the cart and started toward the bedding section. He heard Sergio’s steps behind him a second later, and then felt Sergio’s hand ghost over his shoulder, just barely brushing the fabric of his shirt before Sergio pulled away.

“You know I was joking, yeah?” Sergio asked, sounding genuinely concerned, not annoyed like he should be.

“Yeah,” Luka said, his voice placid and cold, his heart pounding. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sergio frowning at him, confused, and swallowed hard, trying to get his head on straight. “But I’m sure you’ll see how wrong you are when Barca humiliate your team in the classico next month.” Sergio hesitated for a second, but after a moment he gave Luka a small smile, picked up his pace to walk alongside him, and smugly told him that Barca would never beat Madrid.

They talked a bit more about their teams’ rivalry as they walked to the pillow aisle. Once they were there, though, Sergio turned to the wall of white pillows with singular focus. Luka ran his hand back and forth over a soft grey-blue blanket and watched out of the side of his eyes as Sergio pulled pillow after pillow off the shelf, pressing each one against the side of his face and thoughtfully closing his eyes.

“Oh, come feel this one!” Sergio said after a few minutes, and Luka went to him. Sergio held the plastic covered pillow up next to Luka’s face, watching Luka expectantly. Luka paused and took the pillow out of Sergio’s hands before pressing it briefly to his cheek.

“It’s soft,” he nodded at Sergio, passing it back to him. It really was, even through the crinkly plastic; the kind of soft that made Luka realize how un-soft his current pillow was.

“Let’s both get one,” Sergio said, throwing the one in his hands in the cart and reaching for another.

“That’s okay,” Luka said quickly.

Sergio frowned at him over his shoulder. “Okay, but you can’t sleep on a dorm pillow. They will seriously kill your back. What kind of pillows do you like? This one was firmer--” Sergio reached around Luka for another pillow he’d already tried, and Luka cut him off. He didn't like buying things for himself that he didn't need, and he could easily survive with the thin pillow and stiff sheets and blankets that came on his bed, but he also didn't want to argue with Sergio about pillows. Even though they were buying them for twin beds separated by a couple meters of tile floor, it seemed domestic and almost intimate.

“No, I liked that one.” Sergio grinned and threw the pillow in the cart on top of his own.

“You should get that blanket, too.” Sergio jerked his chin in the direction of the blanket Luka had been feeling, which he hadn’t even though Sergio had noticed. “It would look nice with the wood furniture. Maybe I’ll get one, too.” And so they got matching blankets to go with their matching pillows. They picked up a few more things, and then checked out and headed back to their room, both carrying a few bags.

After they got back from the store, Luka and Sergio decorated their respective sides of the room while Sergio played music with Spanish lyrics and lots of guitar. Luka put a picture of himself, his sister, and his parents posing on the beach the summer before, blue water and sun behind them, in a frame he’d bought and propped it up on his desk, spread his new blanket over his bed and put his new pillow in a pale grey pillowcase, set a laundry basket he’d got at the foot of his bed and threw a few pieces of dirty clothes in it. The room did look much better and homier than before, although it was nothing like the room Luka had shared last year, which had been full of loud patterns and clashing colors, Luka's bland side of the room a stark contrast to his roommate's busy decor. Now, he and Sergio's beds mirrored each other, pale grey sheets, fluffy pillows, and blue blankets on each of their beds. It didn't look at all like what a dorm room was supposed to, Luka thought, but it was sort of nice, seeing everything matching and not having too much clutter.

When he finished setting up a small lamp on his desk, Sergio commented on how nice their room looked, gave Luka a dazzling smile, and then put his headphones in and started working on something on his laptop. As soon as he heard Sergio’s music playing faintly from his headphones, Luka called his mom and talked to her in quiet Croatian.

“I moved in with the vice-captain today. He's really nice. We went shopping and got a few things for the room.”

“That’s great!” his mom said, her voice excited and happy. “I’m glad you’ll have someone to keep you company! Is he American?”

“No, he’s from Spain.” He heard his mom take a breath in and knew she was about to ask him a long list of questions about Sergio, and he wanted to talk to his mom about that as little as possible, especially when he was sitting only a few feet away. “What did you have for dinner tonight?” He asked, to distract her. He asked this question almost every time they talked, because his mom loved food and cooking and always got excited to talk about what she’d made, and because hearing her describe the foods he’d grown up eating always made him feel less homesick.

“Ooh, I made štrukli for Diora since she got her cast off. I baked it and put a little nutmeg in, and it was so nice. Creamy and cozy--you would’ve loved it. Then we opened one of your dad’s wines. It was really sweet, you would have hated it."

Luka smiled. “I would suffer through a glass of dad’s wine if it meant I could eat your cooking right now.” he said, and heard his mother sniff on the other end of the line.

“Stop being so sweet, _mali_, you’ll make me cry.”

“Okay,” Luka said briskly, because there was nothing worse than listening to his mom cry over the phone. “I better go. Classes start Monday, so I should start getting ready.”

His mom told him she loved him and he told her the same, and they hung up. Luka laid back on his bed, which was still hard and uncomfortable, but his head sunk pleasantly into the pillow and the blanket slid silkily along his skin, and he was so comfortable that he could almost, but not quite, get to sleep with Sergio a few feet away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

There were a lot of things Luka started to hate about Sergio in the second week of practice.

He _hated_ that Sergio would roll his shorts up under themselves, exposing his long, corded thighs, and take his shirt off, wiping it over his skin before throwing it on the ground, and then stand around, resting his hands on his hips or running his fingers through his hair, tensing his abs and showing off his tattoos to anyone who would look at him. They all changed and showered in the same locker room, so it wasn’t like any of them needed a reminder that Sergio’s body was perfect, but he seemed to only be happy when almost every inch of his skin was bared and shining in the sun.

He hated that when they had free time during practice he had to watch Sergio spend all of his taking free kicks and penalties, like he was a forward and not a fucking centerback who needed to work on defending; fitting into a back line with three guys he’d never played with before. He could admire the way Sergio took his kicks so confidently, hitting balls into the top corners over and over, leaving their goalie aching from so many dives but laughing with Sergio and slapping him on the back. But it meant nothing to score during practice, and when Sergio caught his eye after a good goal and smiled at him, Luka just blinked back.

He hated seeing the way Sergio messed around with all the guys on the team like they were his best friends, playfully wrestling with them and sitting on the grass next to them to take breaks and always, always laughing and talking. Sergio was fit, and he was skilled, but none of that meant anything if you didn’t _work_, and Luka had seen plenty of strong, lazy players make nothing of themselves and pull their teams down with them.

Luka didn’t say anything to Sergio, because Sergio was a captain, too, and because they roomed together but didn’t know each other and because Luka could barely put a normal sentence together around him anyway. He had earned the right to tell most of the other guys on the team what to do, though, by working with them for years and helping them until they trusted him enough to do what he said most of the time.

So after letting Sergio fuck around for a week and a half, Luka finally decided it was time to get his team in line.

When a group of defenders lined up to take penalty kicks with Sergio, talking loudly about who would make the most, he called, “Hey, Rafa, let’s run that passing drill again,” and Rafa looked at him and barely glanced back at the penalty spot as he jogged over to Luka, a few other defenders following, and Luka set them up on two teams and they all did short, quick passes under pressure, trying not to lose the ball.

When Luka saw Sergio leaning against the goal post talking to Isco for long minutes when they were supposed to be practicing controlling the ball, he jogged over to them and said, “Hey, Isco, show me that thing you were talking about," and Isco smirked up at him, excited, and quickly ran across the pitch from Luka, talking loudly, for the hundredth time since they’d started preseason, about how he practiced his control over the summer. Luka kicked a hard, high ball at Isco and watched him settle it, quickly and confidently, under the sole of his boot, not letting it bounce a bit. He smiled and jogged over to high five Isco, genuinely proud of how much he had matured and improved since last year, when he came in as an unfocused freshman.

Just like Sergio was now, as a junior. And Luka could see how it would be if Sergio had been with the team for the last three years, learning from Zidane and Luka about their brand of passing and discipline and tactics. But before Sergio had ever gotten to Minnesota, he had learned, from a coach or his parents or the fans of his old team, that great soccer players set themselves apart with their goals, not their positioning or their defending or even their assists.

And Luka could understand that, because he’d been surrounded by that attitude for most of his life. But telling Sergio now that scoring shouldn’t matter as much as he thought it did would be pointless, and telling him to stop playing around with the guys during practice world make Luka sound like his grandfather, so Luka kept his mouth shut and tried to avoid talking to Sergio at all. He wore his earbuds when they were in the dorm together; made sure to leave the locker room before Sergio so they didn’t have to walk back together. It was easier, he thought, to avoid getting into conversations with Sergio; to pretend he didn’t see him lying on his bed frowning at Luka when Luka ignored him.

Luka was sure Sergio didn’t really care that Luka wanted them to keep to themselves. There were thirty other guys on the team he could talk to, and every one of them was more fun than Luka.

But the night before their first and only preseason game, Sergio insisted on having a conversation. Luka came back to the room after his night class, his eyes sore from the florescent lights and his professor’s fast, mumbly English, to find Sergio lying in bed, propped up on his pillow, his knee bent and cocked out to the side, wearing black shorts and nothing else. Sergio was reading a book when Luka came in, but he quickly set it down, spread open, on his bed.

“Hey,” he said to Luka, his voice low and rough, like maybe he’d been dozing off.

“Hi,” Luka said, grinding his back teeth together and taking in a slow breath.

“How was class?” Sergio asked, like he was Luka’s mom and Luka was getting home from kindergarden.

Luka blinked, and, without thinking, he told the truth. “Terrible.”

“Why?” Sergio asked, his eyes wide and his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“I hate all my classes,” Luka told him. Sergio frowned like that didn’t make sense, and Luka almost laughed. “Do _you_ like your classes?” he asked.

“Well,” Sergio said. “Yeah. In my major anyway. I had a marketing class this morning that was really fun.” He went on to tell Luka about the things that he’d learned in class that day, and Luka thought that it was almost as boring as listening to his own professors except that Sergio actually sounded excited about what he was talking about. He watched Sergio while he talked, all his bare skin seeming even barer when it was him and Luka alone in their room, Sergio half naked on his rumpled sheet that matched Luka’s. Watched the lines of words tattooed on Sergio’s ribs, the casual flexing and stretching of Sergio’s arm and stomach and chest muscles as he moved his hands or shifted on his bed. “Hey, I wanted to tell you,” Sergio said, making Luka snap his eyes back up to his face. “You do a great job helping the other guys on the team. They’re lucky to have you.”

Luka blinked. Sergio was looking at him simply, no smile or sneer on his lips, just open honesty in his eyes. “Thanks.”

“So what are you thinking about the game tomorrow?” Sergio asked.

Luka licked his lips and bit his tongue. “It’s preseason.” _It shouldn’t matter, but it always does._ “It will tell us where we’re at and what we need to work on.” _Hopefully it will make you realize that you and Rafa have no idea how to play together. Hopefully the rest of us will be as good as we were last year._

“Is there anything specific you want from me?” Sergio asked, and at Luka’s confused look, which he just barely kept from being startled, he explained, “as your vice-captain, I mean? I’ve been a captain before, but not a vice-captain, so I don’t want to step on your toes or anything.”

Luka thought, for a long moment, about telling Sergio what he needed him to do tomorrow: to stay in position, to keep a clean sheet, to communicate with his linemates, to pass to Luka whenever he was under pressure. But because Sergio made him stupid and shy and weak, he just told him, “Whatever,” his voice quiet and bland, and then shut the lights off on their conversation, even though Sergio was probably planning to read more, and crawled into bed.

Luka had barely slept for the first three nights after he started rooming with Sergio. He had laid still, his eyes closed, his blanket pulled up to his chest, and listened to Sergio breathe and thought about how if he slept, he might dream or talk or wake up hard or snore or roll over too loudly. When he did manage to get a few hours of sleep, he woke up at every small sound Sergio made, tense and edgy.

The night before the game, he made himself fall asleep by sheer force of will.

And then, he dreamed about exactly what he hadn’t wanted to dream about.

Luka was on his back, in his bed, back home in Croatia. His Boban and Sneijder posters stared down at him from the wall across from his bed. His light was off but the moon was bright through the window. His ceiling fan spun so fast it was blurry. Luka’s skin, which was naked and bared to the cool night air, was covered in goosebumps. And Sergio was knelt between Luka’s thighs, naked and covered in so much shadow that Luka couldn’t make out his tattoos; so invisible that it was like he only existed at three points: his face, which was focused and intense and hot as he looked down at Luka, his pupils wide and his lips wet and swollen; his cock, which was thick and long and stood straight up from his body, only a few inches away from Luka’s own straining dick; and his fingers, which were pressed inside Luka’s ass, stroking over and over and over until Luka’s cock jerked and he came on his stomach, sobbing Sergio’s name.

Luka woke up hard but was hit with shame and embarrassment and fear so harsh that his erection went down almost immediately. He glanced over at Sergio’s bed, his face hot, but Sergio was lying on his side facing Luka, his eyes calmly closed, his lips slightly open. Luka gulped a deep breath of air as quietly as he could and turned his head toward the wall, looking away from his fucking teammate, the guy he would have to play alongside tomorrow, for the rest of the season; who he would have to sleep alongside for the rest of the year.

There was light coming in the window, so Luka knew it was close to morning, and he knew there was no chance he was getting back to sleep, so he got out of bed, got dressed, and went for a run.


	4. Chapter 4

_ We’re going to lose, _Luka thought as soon as they started warming up. 

The match was away at a school they’d lost to once last season. Luka’s school, Crown College, wore their purple third kits, which Luka hated. The pitch was dry and uneven, the stands were almost entirely empty, and Luka’s teammates were unfocused. 

Luka kicked balls back and forth over the rough pitch with Toni and Carlos, who would be starting in the midfield with him. He could see that Toni had noticed that things were off, too--his eyes were shuttered even more than usual, his passing too relaxed. Luka liked Toni, who was quiet and serious and one of the best center mids he’d ever played with, but there were times that Toni gave up on a game before it even started, and Luka could see that he’d done it today. He knew that Toni would go out and give a good, robotic performance and nothing more. 

And sometimes Luka wished he could do the same. He wished he could turn his mind off, give up on a game, jog contentedly off the field in the sixtieth minute when his team was losing. Luka wished he could convince of himself that losing wasn't a big deal, but for all that he tried to be zen and well adjusted like Toni was, playing a losing match felt, to Luka, like treading through choppy water to try to keep from drowning.

He’d heard Toni telling Lucas once that he kept himself from getting hung up on games by thinking about things that were bigger than football. “My family doesn’t care if I lose,” he’d said "My girlfriend likes me even when I have a bad game." Luka had tried telling himself that before, during, and after games. And it wasn’t that he didn’t realize it was true--his family liked that he played football, and liked watching him play when they could, but losing a match or even a hundred matches wouldn’t make them stop loving him. Luka _ knew _ that, but losing _ still _ made him feel sick and useless.

Last year, even Zidane had told Luka that he needed to worry less about winning. They’d played against a team at the bottom of the table right before playoffs, in a game that didn’t really matter. After conceding a goal early on, Luka had run for sixty minutes, chasing the ball, making crosses and through passes that no one finished. In the seventieth minute, Zidane subbed him off. Luka was heaving heavy breaths, sore and tired down to his bones, and so mad about being taken out of the game that he could hear his teeth grinding. “Luka,” Zidane had said, putting a cool hand on the back of Luka’s sweaty neck as he walked off the pitch, “let it go.”

Luka wanted to be like his teammates, who could forget about a loss or a mistake or a bad play and move on to more important things. But he also knew that what set him apart, what made him great and not good, was the fact that he didn’t give up; didn’t let himself or his teammates off the hook; didn’t shrug things off. 

For Luka, winning their preseason game was essential, just like winning every other game was. But he could see no one else thought so. The forwards were juggling and doing tricks, the defenders were passing the ball slowly across a close circle while they talked, and Toni and Carlos both looked at Luka with eyes that said they just wanted the game to be over so they could go back home and sleep or see their girlfriends or play video games. So when the coaches told all the starters to get into a big circle and stretch together, Luka told them, “We will win this game.” He put as much conviction in his voice as he could, and he could hear that he sounded like he believed what he was saying. He saw a few of his teammates perk up. “We were fucking finalists last year and these guys are nothing. We can run all over them.”

Luka looked around the circle as he spoke, holding his teammates' eyes. He saw Karim grin, and Lucas smile, and Dani get his serious, focused glare. Luka smiled. His team might not have the crazy need to win that he had, but they loved football, and they were good at it, and as Luka looked at them, he realized this was the last preseason match he’d ever play with them before he graduated. 

“_Every _game matters,” Luka said, his voice sure. “This is a final. Every match is a final.”

Luka knew from their faces that most of the guys didn’t buy into that, which was fair.

Still, Luka searched for the look in his teammates’ eyes that he knew he had in his own; the burning need to win that he felt every time he stepped onto a pitch. He knew that they wanted to win, and maybe they didn’t even feel how that was different, but Luka could see. He could feel that they didn’t _ need _it, and he was happy for them, but _he_ needed it, and he hated being the only one. 

He'd avoided looking at Sergio as they talked, as they warmed up, even as they got dressed in their dorm that morning. Sergio had been awake on his bed when Luka got back from his run, shirtless, the long hair on the top of his head falling over his eyes. He'd raised an eyebrow at Luka, who obviously shouldn't have been working out hours before their first game of the season, and then smiled at him and said, in his friendly, loud voice, "Good morning." 

Luka had mumbled a response and then ignored Sergio as they got ready and left their dorm. As they walked to the field to get on the bus, Sergio had told Luka, nothing but confidence in his voice, "I can't wait to play with you today. I'm really excited about the team." 

"Yeah," Luka had said. 

Now, having looked at everyone else in the circle and not seen what he wanted, Luka shifted his gaze and found what he’d been looking for, so hot and unexpected that it made him stumble over his words, in Sergio’s wide brown eyes. 

Sergio nodded as soon as Luka made eye contact with him, and Luka let a bit of tension out of his shoulders. He knew that he and Sergio had different ideas about defending and scoring and passing, but that was all just philosophy, and _ this, _ Sergio’s eyes intense and mad and hungry, his muscles tense and ready, was _ football. Okay, _ Luka thought, _ maybe we’re going to win. _

They didn’t.

They played a decent but scoreless first half. During the break, Zidane told them to keep focused and to push for a goal. But when the second half stayed goalless for long minutes, Sergio got stupid. Luka had the ball at his feet and was looking forward for an opening, watching Karim try to lose his defender, seeing Toni open a passing lane between him and Luka, when he saw a streak of purple beside him, and then Sergio’s back, a white number four on his jersey, running towards the box. Luka passed to Toni and dropped back to cover the space Sergio left in the back line, and after a few passes the ball went out for a goal kick. When Sergio jogged past him, Luka shouted his name, his voice furious and breathless.

Sergio’s eyes wandered around a bit before finding Luka and settling on him. “Hold your line,” Luka told him, loud and hoarse. Isco and Dani and Carlos had heard this command, in this voice, so many times from Luka that he didn’t have to tell them anymore, and they didn’t blink at him shouting it to Sergio. 

Sergio blinked, though, and then his expression went from intense to furious as he stepped toward Luka, opening his mouth to yell. Luka noticed players from both teams noticing he and Sergio, and he wasn't going to fight with his co-captain in front of an audience. He glared at Sergio, touched a finger to his lips, and told Sergio, simplyle and harsh, “Shut up.” 

He could tell right away that it was the wrong thing to do. Sergio took another furious step toward Luka, putting them face to face, hardly any space between them, and glared down at Luka. Luka thought that if they were closer to the same height, Sergio would be pressing their foreheads together. 

Sergio’s eyebrows were drawn, his full lips pulled into a tight line, his jaw flexing, the muscles of his neck straining. “Fuck you,” he told Luka, simple but venemous in his low voice. 

Luka was pullled back into his dream from the night before, Sergio looking down at him there, his eyes hot and focused for a different reason. He shoved Sergio away from him before he could stop himself. 

Sergio stumbled back and looked shocked for a moment, but then his eyes hardened again and he regained his balance and took an aggressive step toward Luka. Before either of them could do anything more, their teammates were between them, Nacho spreading both his arms to push them apart, Toni curling an arm around Luka’s waist to pull him further away.

“It’s okay, Luka,” Toni said, patting his side, his voice calm and steady. 

“That’s enough,” Nacho told Sergio. 

Then the ref was there, showing Sergio and Luka both a yellow card, and Luka wanted to throw up. 

Luka did everything he could for the last thirty minutes, his blood thrumming so hard he could hear it. When they finally gave up a goal in the ninetieth minute, Luka knew it was what he deserved. 

Luka started at his feet on the walk off the pitch and as Zidane lectured the team in the locker room. He kept his eyes down as they walked to the bus, but he could feel his teammates looking at him, confused and disappointed and annoyed. Luka hadn’t gotten a yellow card once last season, and now he’d taken one in a fucking preseason game for fighting with his co-captain. 

Luka sat on his regular seat in the middle of the bus, even though he wanted to curl into the front seat behind the bags of equipment so he didn’t have to look at his teammates. He glanced up to see Sergio walk past him, eyes straight ahead, and looked back to see him sit in the last seat, leaving two empty rows between himself and anyone else. 

Karim sat across the aisle from Luka, and they talked a bit on the drive back, mostly just Karim going on about which classes he was registered for that semester. Karim usually sat with Rafa, so Luka knew that he was making a purposeful statement by sitting with Luka; talking to him. When they got off the bus and he patted Luka’s shoulder in goodbye, his face said, “you’re an idiot, but I’m with you.” 

Luka waited for Sergio to get off the bus and nodded at him. Sergio looked reluctant, but he nodded back, and they walked side by side back to their room in silence. 

Sergio followed Luka into the room and closed the door, turning to face it and leaning his forehead against the wood for a moment. He was wearing black sweatpants and a hoodie that fit close to his body, so he was like a shadow against the door, and Luka thought if his dream again, and when he breathed out it was shaky and rough. Sergio turned to Luka and crossed his arms. 

“I want to get along with you,” he said. 

“Me too,” Luka agreed, turning away from Sergio to drop his bag on his bed and sort aimlessly through it. 

Sergio made a skeptical noise. “That’s why you never talk to me? Why you’re nice to everyone on the team but act like I'm horrible to be around? Why you give everyone advice on how to play but wait until we’re in the middle of a game to tell me what I’m doing wrong?” His voice was loud and fast and high with tension, until he was almost yelling at the end. 

“I talk to you,” Luka said. “We went to the store together," he pointed out. 

“And _ still _ the only thing I know about you is that your favorite color is blue.”

Luka scrubbed his hands through his hair and turned to look at Sergio. His arms were crossed and his face was drawn, but his expression wasn’t all anger and dislike like Luka expected. He was scowling, but underneath that, he looked hurt. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Luka said, and Sergio’s eyes shuttered. 

“I thought we could be friends,” he said, and Luka had to keep himself from scoffing. Sergio must have seen Luka’s reaction, though, because he rolled his shoulders and tightened his arms across his chest, straining his biceps, and when he spoke next his voice was cold. “I was excited to move in together. I thought we would get along. You’re the only one here I think is like me.”

Sergio’s open honesty made Luka’s stomach hurt. “Like you how?” he asked, bewildered. 

Sergio narrowed his eyes like Luka was stupid for not knowing the answer. “Lonely,” he said simply, and Luka couldn’t help the breath that heaved out of him. Luka and Sergio were both captains, both serious about football, both living in a foreign country and speaking a foreign language. Sergio could have said any of those things, and they would have been true, but instead he said the word that sometimes felt like it was the core of Luka’s existence, the best spot to push at Luka to make it hurt.

“You’re not lonely,” Luka said. Sergio spent every second of practice talking to people, spent hours a day texting or talking on the phone in Spanish, had left the dorm to meet up with people more in the last week than Luka had last year. But then Serigo blinked, and his face shifted a little, relaxed a bit, and Luka recognized the look in his eyes, just like he’d recognized the heat in them before the match: empty and hungry.

“Luka,” Sergio said, then trailed off. He waved his hand and turned away, seeming to give up on Luka. “I am,” he said, plain and even, to the wall.

And Luka didn’t understand it, but he could see that Sergio was telling the truth. And he was talking like Luka was the person he thought could make him less lonely. _ Luka, _who was the last person on the team he should want to be friends with, who had pushed him away every second since they started rooming together, who had no reason to dislike Sergio besides his own stupid, wrong feelings. 

“I’m sorry,” Luka said, and then paused. With his mom and his sister, he always knew what to say to make them feel better, to settle arguments, to make them laugh. He knew Sergio even less than he’d thought, and he didn’t want to promise Sergio that they could start being friends, because it wasn’t something Luka could get away with doing. He needed to give Sergio something though; he deserved for Luka to be civil to him, at the very least. So he told Sergio, “We can talk more.” And Sergio looked back at him with a small, hopeful smile that made Luka ache all over. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!!

Sergio barely gave Luka time to feel awkward the next morning. They both woke up to their alarms at 7:30 and sat up on the sides their beds at the same moment. Luka blinked at Sergio, instantly wide awake while Sergio looked bleary and sleepy, his hair standing up crazy on top of his head. Luka tucked his own hair behind his ears and said, his voice hoarse and low, “Good morning.”

Sergio smiled, "Morning.” He got out of bed and stretched his arms above his head so that every muscle in his bare chest flexed right in front of Luka, and Luka’s eyes were wandering down his stomach and tracing the V of muscles that led into his underwear before he could think. Luka closed his eyes, took a quick breath, and got out of bed, too. 

Luka knew he had to stop noticing Sergio that way. He’d known it when he’d first seen Sergio at practice, and he really knew it when he and Sergio had moved in together, but until their game last night, and his talk with Sergio after, Luka hadn’t fully realized just how stupid he was being; how much he was risking. He’d convinced himself, without even realizing it, that maybe thinking about the play of Sergio’s muscles every time he looked at him wasn’t that bad. But he’d been wrong, because it meant he had dreams like the one he’d had before the game, that he was too tense around Sergio to talk to him, that he’d fucked up the team and lost a match. 

Luka had thought Karim was attractive, too, when they’d first met. But he’d gotten used to him, had gotten good at not _ looking _at him, and now they were almost friends and Luka could talk to him without any of the warm, buzzy, sickening tension that he felt around Sergio.

He could be almost-friends with Sergio, too, if he could turn off the stupid, wrong part of his brain that wanted to lick every inch of Sergio’s body.

Luka had heard his mom tell countless people that Luka could do anything he put his mind to. Obviously when she said it, she meant that he could be a professional football player or get an A on a really hard final, and not that he could stop thinking about his roommate’s cock long enough to have a conversation with him_ , _but thinking of his mom’s words gave him a little confidence, anyway. 

As Luka dressed in his practice gear, he rolled his shoulders back and made a list of things he could talk to Sergio about, and he wrapped a headband around his wrist that he could snap every time he found himself checking Sergio out.

“What do you think of the team?” he asked Sergio as they stepped out the front door of their dorm building and headed toward the practice field. The sun was just risen and was bright and yellow in a way that would give Luka a headache soon. Sergio, though, tilted his head back and smiled. 

“I love it,” he told Luka. “Everyone is really cool. Coach is great. I think there’s a lot of depth.” Luka and Sergio came to the stretch of sidewalk that skirted past the lake, which was flat and calm and, as always, smelled musty and fishy. Sergio bent down to pick up a flat rock from the sidewalk, then arced back his arm and hurled it into the water. The rock skipped across the surface four times, sending wide circles rippling across the surface, before sinking. Sergio looked back at Luka with a cocky sort of smile, and Luka raised his eyebrows and looked away. After a second, Sergio asked Luka, “Will you tell me more about last season?” 

Luka breathed out, relieved. This, he could talk about. He'd spent his entire weekend long family reunion last summer responding to great-aunts and distant cousins, people who knew nothing about Luka but that he played football in the U.S., asking him how his season had gone. He had practice summarizing the team's form and results while not even hinting at the fact that he had run so hard the week before the final that he'd hurt himself and couldn't play. 

Luka spent the rest of their short walk explaining to Sergio how the regular season had gone. They stepped onto the field just as Luka finished summarizing their semi-final game the year before, and Luka cut himself off and waved to Sergio, expecting him to jog away to talk to some of the other defenders, or maybe the guys on the team who spoke Spanish.

“Then what happened in the final?” Sergio asked, sounding interested, even though Luka knew he knew the result of the match.

“We lost,” Luka said, using the exact words he'd said to everyone who asked him over the summer. “I didn’t play. I was injured.”

Luka glanced up at Sergio to see his eyes widen and eyebrows pull down, sad and shocked, and Luka thought Sergio might be the first person he talked to who really seemed to feel what being out injured for a final meant in the same way that Luka did. “I didn’t realize you were out for the final. That _ sucks _,” he said emphatically. 

Luka nodded, and then bent down to start stretching. Sergio stood next to him for a few seconds, then very, very softly patted his shoulder blade, his hand barely making enough contact for Luka to feel, said, “see you later,” and jogged away. Luka glanced up at his back as he left, then forced his eyes back down and snapped the headband on his wrist. 

***

Their first match was a week after their preseason loss. Luka’s school week had been dull an exhausting. Practice had been good; the team’s chemistry was improving as the new students settled in, and Sergio and Luka were getting along better. They walked to practice together every morning and had simple, easy conversations about their classes and their home countries and their favorite football players. They hadn’t spent much time together outside of practice. Their class schedules kept them outside of the dorm at different times, and Luka liked to study in the library at night, and they both went to the gym outside of practice. 

The night before their first game, though, Luka came back from his night class to find Sergio sitting on the floor between their beds, three paper plates in front of him, one with a round, eggy looking thing on it.

“Hey," Sergio said, smiling up at him as Luka dropped his bag off his shoulder and slipped off his shoes. "I made tortilla. We eat it all the time at home. It’s eggs and potato and onion.”

Luka nodded. “Are you having someone over?” 

""No," Sergio shook his head. “It’s for me and you.” Luka curled his tongue over his lip and bit it. He didn’t want to have dinner with Sergio, on the floor of their dorm room, on the night before a match. He wanted to lie in bed and think through every second of the game; every possible scenario, until he finally fell asleep. But Sergio had _ cooked, _and Luka wasn’t rude enough to refuse to eat with him. 

So he said, “Uh, thanks,” and sat down, cross legged, across from Sergiovas Sergio smiled and sliced two large triangles out of the tortilla, putting one on each of their plates.

Sergio watched as Luka took his first bite, closing his teeth over the plastic fork Sergio handed him and chewing delicately. The tortilla was good--eggy and peppery and oniony, with soft potatoes and a nice, browned crust. And it was stupid, but Luka loved being cooked for: when he was home, he feasted on his mother’s cooking almost every night, but on campus he usually ate protein bars and salads and smoothies, or whatever else was quick and convenient. Luka nodded at Sergio and gave him a small smile, and Sergio _ beamed _ at him. And Luka thought, not for the first time, that it was ridiculous how much Sergio smiled. 

For a moment, they just ate, Sergio taking quick bites and Luka carefully, precisely cutting and chewing his food. The room so quiet Luka could hear Sergio swallowing. Luka had read about comfortable silences, but when there was quiet between him and another person, he always felt like he was supposed to be talking but didn’t know what to say. 

"How do you say potato in Croatian?” Sergio asked. Luka told him, and then said nothing else. Sergio nodded solemnly, like his question or Luka’s answer meant anything at all. “Who do you think is the best player on the team?” he asked next, looking up at Luka and tilting his head, focused.

“Karim." Luka swallowed, and then asked Sergio something he’d been curious about for a while. “Where did you play before this?” 

Sergio sighed, then talked about another American college he’d gone to, which had dissolved their team last year after a season so terrible that the coach quit at the end of it. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to fuck up this team that bad.” 

Luka coughed out a laugh, and Sergio looked up at him at once, his eyes bright and wide, like the fact that Luka could laugh was a revelation. 

Sergio tapped his fork on the edge of his plate several times in quick succession. "Okay,” he said then, “I wanted to talk about the last game. I know I made you uncomfortable when I said I wanted us to be friends, but, look, if you don’t want to talk to me, then you don’t have to talk to me. But we need to get along on the pitch.” Sergio paused, searching Luka’s eyes, then frowned and continued. “In the game the other day,” he said, “I get why you got mad. I don’t play like Rafa does, but you’ll see that I’m a good defender. I think we can play great together, if we figure things out between us. I want to get to the final again this year, and I want us to win it.” 

Luka took a bite of his food and chewed as slowly as he could. When he had told Sergio he would talk to him more, it had felt like a concession--something he would do for Sergio, so that they could get along and so the team would work. But the past week with Sergio hadn’t been as uncomfortable as Luka had thought. Sergio kept their conversations going easily most of the time, and didn’t seem to expect too much from Luka. And now, when Luka thought about it--thought about the look in Sergio’s eyes before their game, of Sergio telling him he thought they were both lonely, of the gentle confidence that Sergio carried himself with all the time--Luka realized that maybe he actually liked Sergio. Not like--not in a way that he shouldn’t, but as a teammate and a roommate. 

“Okay,” Luka said after a long pause, while Sergio was patiently quiet. “I hope we win, too.” Then, keeping his eyes on the floor and pressing his fingertips into the cold tile, he said: “Um. And you were right. I am lonely.” 

Sergio reached over and briefly squeezed Luka’s leg, just above his knee, half of his hand on Luka’s bare skin, then slapped it and pulled away. “Tell me more about the team we’re playing tomorrow,” he said, and Luka heaved out a sigh, relaxing, and talked about the team’s best players, how Crown had done against them the last few years, what kind of football they played. Most of it was stuff Zidane had already told the whole team, but Luka was happy to have something easy to say. 

They finished their food, with only a few more easy questions from Sergio, and as Luka set his fork down on his plate and folded it in half to throw away, he had to clear his throat, which suddenly felt sticky and full, and bite his lip to keep from telling Sergio that his little meal, eaten on the floor of their room together, had made Luka feel warm and full and nourished in a way he never had outside of Croatia. “Thank you,” he said instead. “That was really good. You’re a good cook.” 

“Thanks, Luka,” Sergio said. Then he heaved himself up off the floor. “Well, big game tomorrow. Night.” 

***

The game was an uneventful 1-0 win. It was scoreless for eighty minutes, and it seemed like the entire thing was played in the midfield, with Toni and Luka constantly passing and receiving the ball and trying to get out of the other team’s high press. 

They scored off a corner, which Luka took and Sergio headed in. Luka was happy but exhausted when the goal came. He’d never been big on celebrating goals, so he was heading back to the center line, already thinking about how to play out the last ten minutes, when Sergio ran up in front of him, his eyes bright, and bent down to hug him. 

His arms squeezed around Luka’s waist, and Luka instinctively brought his hands up to Sergio’s shoulders to steady himself as Sergio leaned back, pulling Luka up onto his toes and then hefting him into the air for a second before dropping him back on his feet. “Vamos!” he yelled. The rest of the team was there, stepping up to Sergio to hug him and slap his back, and Luka shrugged out of the circle of celebration and headed back towards the center line, feeling unfocused and even more out of breath than he’d been before. 

Luka was dead tired by the time they got on the bus. Some of the guys who hadn’t played so many minutes or run so much--like Isco and Marco--were rowdy and loud, cheering and singing like they’d won a final. Zidane had praised the whole team in the locker room, and Luka had seen how much the guys had lapped it up, and now they were feeling cocky. Luka wasn’t more than five years older than anyone on the team, but sometimes they made him feel ancient. He sat down and pulled out his math textbook. Karim nodded and told him good game as he walked past Luka’s seat to sit next to Rafa. Luka opened to the page of algebra problems he had to do by Monday, and then jumped as someone sat heavily in the seat beside him. 

“Hey,” Sergio said, slouching and spreading his thighs.

“Hi.” Luka said, casually hooking his thumb under his headband and snapping it against the skin of his wrist. 

“You played fucking amazing." 

Luka flinched a bit at the compliment, thanked Sergio flatly, and started working on his homework. Sergio seemed happy to sit quietly next to Luka, occasionally talking to guys around them or leaning forward to look out the window. 

Luka had been working on the same problem for ten minutes when he felt Sergio’s eyes on his notebook page. He glanced at Sergio, and Sergio smiled sheepishly. “Do you want help? I’m good at math.” 

It didn’t hurt Luka’s pride to admit that he was _ not _good at math--or at any other subject. He’d never pretended to be book smart, or to want to go to college to get a degree. He wanted to play football, and he didn’t need to be good in school to do that. 

“Sure,” he said, shoving his book at Sergio. Instead of filling in the answer like Luka hoped, though, Sergio tilted the book towards him and pointed his pencil at the work Luka had done. 

“Here’s where you messed up a little, but you were really close,” he said, and then proceeded to walk Luka through the long, boring equation. Luka was zoning out by the time he finished, and he blinked when Sergio offered him his book back. 

“Thanks,” he said, trying to make his voice sound genuine.

“You hate school, huh?” Sergio asked.

“Yeah.” Luka said. He paused, then told Sergio something no one else on the team knew. “I almost failed three of my classes last semester.”

“Really?” Sergio said, his voice high with surprise. Luka nodded. After a long pause, Sergio said, “Well, let me know if you want help with any of your classes this year. I feel stupid offering because you’re obviously smarter than me--” Luka scoffed, and Sergio frowned at him-- “but I actually like school, and I’ll help you if I can.”

Luka flushed a little, and couldn’t think of anything to say for a long moment. Finally, he just told Sergio thank you, for the third time since Sergio had sat down next to him. 

***

A week later, Sergio’s dog died. 

Luka woke up to the sound of Sergio’s voice. He blinked open his eyes, taking a moment to comprehend that Sergio was talking in Spanish and not English, and saw that it was still dark, although the moon was bright enough that he could see Sergio sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, whispering so quietly Luka could barely hear him. His head was in his hand, his elbow resting on one knee while the other one bounced quickly. Luka closed his eyes again, even though he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Sergio sniffled, and his voice got high and unsteady for a second, then he cleared his throat, said a few more words, and stopped talking. Luka opened his eyes to see Sergio drop the phone on his bed and then press the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Luka felt like he shouldn’t be there, like he should leave and go sit in the hall or close his eyes and pretend to be asleep. But Sergio had cooked for him, had been nice to him every single second since they’d med, had helped him do algebra, had hugged him so hard his feet had come off the ground. “Sergio?” he whispered.

Sergio let out a quiet, broken sound like a sob and Luka got out of bed before the could think, stepping across the space between their beds to stand in front of Sergio. He patted Sergio’s shoulder twice, stiff and strange, and then realized how stupid he’d been to walk over in the first place when he had no idea how to comfort someone who was crying, especially someone like _ Sergio. _

Before he could step away, Sergio sat up, wrapped his arms around Luka’s waist, and pulled him close, pressing his face to the fabric of Luka’s t-shirt over his stomach, and started crying. 

“Sergio,” Luka breathed, shocked and worried. Sergio was always open with his emotions. It seemed to Luka, who worked hard to keep his face placid and his voice even at all times, that Sergio showed every bit of happiness and annoyance and anger he felt, but Luka hadn’t seen him sad before, except maybe when he had told Luka he was lonely. 

After a long moment in which Luka held his hands awkwardly above Sergio’s shaking shoulders, Sergio said, his voice wrecked, “Our dog died.” Then he started crying harder. 

“Hey,” Luka said, desperate to figure out a way to calm Sergio down. “Hey,” he said again, “When my grandpa died, I watched football all day.” He pushed Sergio back with a hand on his shoulder, trying to encourage him to look up. Sergio wiped a hand over his nose and then turned his face up, his eyes, red and puffy and wet, meeting Luka’s. Luka talked fast. “There’s this--thing I do, when I want to get distracted. You watch a game and pretend that you’re the manager of the losing team, and think about what you would do. Let’s do it, okay?” Sergio looked at Luka for a long moment, then slowly nodded. Luka grabbed his laptop from his desk, and Sergio scooted back in his bed, resting his back against the wall and curling his legs up to his chest. 

Luka hesitated. Sergio wore nothing other than the black boxer briefs he always wore to bed. Luka had learned, in a few weeks of living with and sharing a locker room with Sergio, that Sergio was comfortable wearing very little clothing. And over the last week, Luka had gotten so good at ignoring Sergio’s constantly exposed skin that he almost never had to snap his headband against his wrist anymore. And anyway, he’d suggested watching a game, and they had to be sitting next to each other to see it. He climbed in the bed next to Sergio, careful to keep a gap of space between them. 

Luka chose a random match from the Russian league on a streaming website. It was between two teams he’d never heard of, and the score was 0-1. He balanced the computer on his thigh, turning it so Sergio could see, and then settled back against the cold wall behind him. 

It was a boring game. Both teams were not very good. The losing team had sponsors’ logos on every inch of their uniforms, which Luka thought looked ridiculous. When the losing team let a perfect cross into the box and the other team nearly scored, Luka glanced at Sergio, who was staring at the computer, his eyes still wet. “Look,” Luka nudged him with his elbow, “their fullbacks are useless.”

Sergio glanced at him, his face flat and sad. And then, not even trying to be subtle, he scooted over so his hip was touching Luka’s. He leaned a bit to the side so his bare arm pressed against Luka’s below the sleeve of Luka’s t-shirt. He inched his bare foot into the space under Luka’s knee. He said: “Their goalkeeper is good.” 

Luka held himself still. He watched the game, and thought about tactics, and made himself not think about anything else, and didn’t look at Sergio again until half time, when Sergio finally sat up and away from Luka, the skin of their arms sticking slightly as he pulled away. 

“Okay,” Sergio said, taking a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back and looking a bit more himself. “Time for my halftime talk. Alright,” he started, in an attempt at a Russian accent so ridiculous that Luka laughed right away. “Please,” Sergio said, looking down his nose haughtily, “Let’s take this seriously. We need to defend better, and we have to score a goal. I don’t know how you’re going to do it, but just go out there and try to score.” Luka grinned. “I know you think you’re going to lose because your uniform has a logo on the butt and theirs doesn’t--yes, you look stupid, and yes, they’re better than you. Okay, now let’s win.” 

Luka laughed. It was quick and loud, but it felt good, and helped him let go of some of the roiling tension that had come from having Sergio pressed up against him. Sergio smiled slightly, then slouched back down, uncurling his legs and letting his knee fall to the side so it just nudged Luka’s. 

They were quiet during the second half aside from a few comments about each team’s players and strategies. At one point, Sergio showed Luka a picture of his dog, a golden retriever with grey fur on his face and soft brown eyes. They started a new game, and then another after that, and sat next to each other, knees touching, and watched football until it was light out.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry about a super long wait! I got a new job, which has been fun but busy. The story is really getting going now, though, and I'm really excited about the upcoming chapters, so I'll try to update faster! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!

Sergio felt like the biggest idiot as he walked next to a stiff, quiet Luka on the way to their match. Well, Luka was always quiet, off the field, but there was his usual low voice and his always muffled laughs and his soft movements, which Sergio had started to find sort of calming, and then there was a tense stillness, like Luka was holding his breath so he wouldn’t make any noise at all, which Sergio noticed sometimes when Luka was uncomfortable, and which made Sergio feel anxious and like he’d done something wrong.

And this morning, he _ had _done something wrong. 

He’d _ known _Luka wasn’t a touchy person. Luka’s sharp eyes and cool face kept most of the team, who were normally so rowdy they had no sense of personal space, a foot or two away from him. Sergio knew he’d made Luka a bit uncomfortable when he’d hugged him during a match and sat right next to him on the bus. And still, Sergio had hugged Luka, pushed his face against Luka’s abs like he was a needy little kid, pressed himself up against Luka on his bed. 

He should have gone and worked out or found someone else to hang out with to distract him from the news about Tito, the dog his family had had since he was a kid. Isco and Lucas would have made it easy for Sergio not to talk about anything serious and to pretend not to be sad, and working out always took Sergio’s thoughts off his problems; made him feel for a bit like he was just a body,` ache and muscles, and not a mind. But after hanging up with his mom so she could go comfort his little brothers and sisters, who he’d heard crying in the background, Sergio had felt fucking _ delicate, _and Luka had been there, and, because Sergio never fucking thought, he’d grabbed onto Luka like they had the type of relationship that made it okay to touch him, even though he knew Luka barely liked him and didn’t like being touched and Sergio was pretty sure he was straight. 

Sergio had been trying to show Luka he was into him without making Luka uncomfortable for weeks, touching him casually and lightly and checking him out when Luka could see and trying to get to know him. Luka had seemed to relax around Sergio a bit, but he was always stiff when Sergio touched him, and he’d checked Sergio out a few times, but just quick glances at his abs or his arms, which Sergio was used to even super straight guys giving him--he’d worked hard to get a body that was difficult to ignore.

Sergio was happy that Luka seemed to appreciate his body at least a bit, because Luka's shaggy hair and golden skin and small, tightly muscled body drove him crazy. Also, Luka was also just _great. _He was a great leader, an amazing player. He was usually serious and shy, but when he relaxed a little he was kind and funny and bossy, and he was as into football as Sergio was. He liked Luka, and if Luka was straight, that was okay, because Sergio was happy just having him as a teammate and a roommate and a co-captain and maybe as a friend, although he didn’t think Luka would describe them that way. And if Luka ticked pretty much every box on Sergio’s ‘dream guy’ list and made Sergio’s mouth water, Sergio had decided he would ignore it, because he didn’t want to make Luka any more skittish around him then he already was. 

But now he’d fucked up and made Luka so uncomfortable that he was barely breathing as he walked beside Sergio, his shoulders tight and high, his fingers flickering against each other, his eyes far away. So Sergio did what he’d learned to do when he wanted to distract Luka and asked him about football. “How’s the team we’re playing today?”

Luka blinked and glanced at Sergio, then quickly looked away and frowned at the brick of the athletic building as they approached it. “Um,” he said. And then he described them in precise, organized detail, like he was reading to Sergio from an analysis of the team he’d written in his head. “Their striker is hard to defend. He’s faster than you. Maybe faster than Rafael. Their best center mid is out injured. Their defenders are just okay, but they play a low block that’s hard to get through. We beat them here last year and lost away.” 

Sergio listened and nodded. Most of his conversations with Luka so far had been about football, and he’d already learned to trust what Luka said. “We’ve got it today,” he said, and then stopped himself from putting his arm around Luka’s shoulders.

Luka stopped walking, and Sergio stopped and turned toward him. Luka was frowning and biting his lip, and was quiet for a moment before he asked Sergio, “Are you good to play?” 

“Yeah,” Sergio said immediately. He _ needed _to play. He needed the way the game made him move and not think, the strain in his muscles, the heat he felt after a win. 

Luka looked at him for a moment, then nodded. They went into the locker room, checked in with Zidane, and then jogged out onto the field to warm up. 

Sergio joined the other defenders and the defensive coach in a rondo while Luka got into one with the forwards and midfielders. Several of his teammates greeted him, and he smiled and said hi to everyone. He got into the circle next to Dani and Nacho, who were both talking in fast Spanish, which always reminded Sergio of being home with his family. 

Today, it made him think of his brothers and sisters crying, his dad silently grieving the dog he’d loved so much, his mom trying to distract everyone, and Sergio all the way over here, and while he thought of them, a ball slipped past him and he had to get into the middle of the rondo. 

Sergio watched Luka walk up to the ref and the other team’s captain, his expression intense, thin black headband pushing his hair back from his forehead. Crown was wearing their black home kits, which Luka looked so hot in. Luka, Sergio had learned in the three matches they’d played together, was a fucking fantasy during games. He was always attractive, but when he played his usually placid face was more expressive, and as he sweated and ran and yelled at his teammates, Sergio loved how alive he looked. After their first match together, Sergio had gotten himself off thinking about the movement of Luka’s thin hips when he shot the ball and about Luka’s tiny headband and of his heated eyes on Sergio. 

Luka slapped hands with the other captain and got into position, the ref blew the whistle, and Karim kicked the ball. 

Sergio listened to the soft thump of leather against leather; felt his cleats digging into the soft turf; smelled clean sweat and fresh air and the musty lake, which the wind was blowing off of. He was supposed to be in the game--moving and playing and not thinking, but he was stuck in his head. His instincts were what made him a great defender. “When you think, you get stupid,” his youth coach had told him, “Just play.” But Sergio’s thoughts didn’t shut off the way they normally did during a match. Instead, he kept thinking about his dog, and his family, and about how stupid he’d made himself look with Luka. Sergio felt like he was a step behind the entire game. Every block or tackle he made felt frantic and almost too late. The more he fucked up, the more in his head he got. 

In the locker room at half time, he focused on his breathing, tried to clear his head, and ignored Luka’s eyes on him. 

It started raining in the second half. Sergio was blinking water out of his eyes and thinking, _ why can’t I stop thinking, _ when the striker Luka had told him about got the ball and turned past Sergio and started running. Sergio chased him, and thought _ fuck fuck fuck, _because he shouldn’t have gotten past Sergio in the first place, and then, right outside the penalty box, he made a bad tackle, catching the guys ankles and knocking him over. 

It was a red card, and Sergio knew it, but when the ref blew his whistle and ran up to him and held the card up, his eyes hard on Sergio like Sergio was some kind of animal while the striker laid on the ground like his ankles had been fucking pulverized, Sergio lost it. 

Last season, Sergio had gotten four red cards and ten yellows, and he’d worked like fucking crazy over the summer to clean up his tackling, had promised himself he would stop getting in fights on the field, had been convinced that he could go through the season without a red. 

Four games in with his new team and he had a red and a yellow. He leaned over the striker, still on the ground, and yelled down at him, “Get up, fucking _ c__oño._” Then there was a hand on his arm, pulling him back, and then Luka looking up at him, his expression unreadable. Sergio tried to blink the anger out of his eyes. 

“Sergio,” Luka said, his voice calm but strong, “it’s okay. Get off the pitch.” Then he shoved Sergio toward the edge of the field and Sergio walked toward the bench, clenching his fists and swearing to himself in Spanish.

Zidane called his name as soon as he stepped off the field, and looked at Sergio, with hard, angry eyes. “Sit on the bench,” he said, his voice carrying across the wide space between them. “Watch the rest of the game.” 

Sergio paused. When he’d gotten all his red cards last year, he’d gone into the locker room and kicked his locker and scowled and waited angrily until the rest of his team got finished playing. But Zidane was his coach, and he was a coach there was no saying no to. He sat on the bench next to Isco, who slapped him on the back and didn’t look at him.

And then he watched Luka play. He’d heard commentators say that a team did better when they were down to ten men. And sometimes they did, but sometimes, when they’ve played sixty hard minutes and the game’s still scoreless and then they lose a player, teams lie down and let the rest of the game happen to them. His team last year had done it over and over again. 

But Luka was like no one Sergio had ever played with. He had to be tired--he’d played every minute of their season so far and had played hard all game. But he spent the last thirty minutes of the game sprinting up and down the field to cover defensively and try to make chances up top, and before the game was over he provided two assists and made a tackle that kept the other team from scoring.

Sergio barely felt like he had a right to cheer with the rest of his team, but it was impossible _ not _to cheer for Luka, to jump off the bench and yell with his teammates when Crown won because of him. 

Luka caught Sergio’s eye as he walked off the field, wiping water off his face with the bottom of his shirt, and nodded at him, an uptilt of his chin, his eyes cool_. _

In the locker room, Karim wrapped an elbow around Luka’s neck and started chanting his name, slow and low--”Luka, Luka, Modric!” The rest of the team joined in, and Luka clenched his jaw and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but when Karim let him go and ruffled his hair, Luka smiled at him before they sat next to each other on the bench in front of their lockers. Nacho and Rafa talked about the game, including Sergio in their conversation like he hadn’t done anything wrong. Zidane stepped into the locker room, and everyone quieted as he paced. 

Zidane was intimidating--he was almost always scowling, and there was something sleek about his baldness and his stature and his Crown University warm ups. When he spoke, his voice was soft and mild and a bit high, but it made him seem even more powerful, like he knew he could talk as quiet as he wanted and people would listen anyway. 

“The next few games are for you to tell me who you are as a team. The next three weeks we’re playing the top teams in the conference. _ These _ are the teams you’re competing with this season. _ These _games are the ones where you show people who you are and what you can do. Luka?” 

Zidane turned to Luka who was sitting on the bench, shirtless and wearing only his black compression shorts. Luka was still and quiet for a moment, then he said, “I was proud of the team today.” Sergio felt the way his words hit the other guys on the team, saw them sigh and slouch for a second, relieved, and then roll their shoulders back, cocky and proud. He wondered if Luka knew that his words had as much impact on his teammates as Zidane’s, their coach and a player that every one of the guys here had probably watched as kids. Zidane clapped and everyone went back to changing, and Sergio kept his eyes on Luka. He was tan and looked fit and healthy, his shapely muscles gleaming with sweat. As Sergio watched, he slid his hand into his shorts and pulled his cup out, then turned to set it on the shelf behind him. Sergio shook his head and swallowed and pulled his eyes away.

Sergio really wanted Luka to be gay. 

Sergio and Luka jogged home in pouring rain in silence. As soon as the door shut in their room, Sergio pushed his wet hair back and turned to Luka. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I could play, but I couldn’t stop thinking.” He knew Luka must be furious at him, must have wanted to scream at Sergio on the field earlier and had probably been waiting to yell at him since then. 

Luka furrowed his eyebrows and stayed quiet for a long moment. “We won,” he said finally, his voice simple. “It’s fine. They would have scored if you didn’t make the tackle.”

“Because I fucked up and I let him get past me because--”

“I told you he’s hard to defend.”

Sergio scoffed. “You did pretty well with him.”

Luka turned away from Sergio and pulled off his shirt, revealing the long muscles of his back, and Sergio sat down heavily on his bed. Luka stood still for a long moment, and Sergio waited for him to talk. “I don’t really want to talk about the game,” Luka said finally, his voice quiet. 

“Oh,” Sergio said before he could think, surprised at this ounce of vulnerability from Luka. “Okay.” 

Luka glanced at him over his shoulder, then looked back away. “Do you want to watch the classico tomorrow?” he asked, his voice quick and sudden.

Sergio blinked, and thought of being so close to Luka when they’d watched football together that morning, and tried not to hope that that’s what Luka was thinking of too. “Yeah, definitely,” he said, his voice a bit loud. Luka nodded and ran his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and then got into bed without looking at Sergio. 

The classico was on in the U.S. at two. Sergio felt homesick thinking about watching it in Spain, the sky just starting to get dark outside and his faimily crowded into the living room. Luka went to the library in the morning and Sergio ordered delivery from a Mexican restaurant in town, since there was no Spanish place and he didn’t have anything to cook with. 

Luka came into the room a few minutes after the delivery guy and seemed surprised to see Sergio, who was sitting in bed, leaning against the wall, his laptop on a pillow in front of him and three cartons of food balanced on the bed around him. 

“Hey,” Sergio said, working to sound normal. “Ready to watch your team lose?” 

Luka scoffed and dropped his bag to the floor. He toed off his shoes and took his phone out of his pocket, and then hesitated by the door. 

Sergio nodded to the setup on his bed, trying not to seem too desperate. “I ordered some food for us. The game’s starting soon.” 

“Yeah,” Luka said. “Okay.” He crawled delicately onto the bed next to Sergio and curled his legs up against his chest. 

Sergio handed him a container of food and he took it, balancing it on his knee and taking a small bite of rice. “This is good, thanks” he said, not seeming to taste the food at all as he looked intently at Sergio’s laptop screen, which showed nothing but a clock counting down to kickoff. 

“You need to try more Spanish food. I’ll cook paella for you, it’s amazing.” 

Sergio waited, but Luka said nothing, and they spent the rest of the time before the match silently eating, tension thick between them.

The game started, and Sergio tried to watch it, but it was hard not to think about the last time he’d watched a game with Luka and about the sweet smell of Luka’s soap and the heat of Luka’s body next to him. Ten minutes in, Luka straightened his legs and let his knees fall a bit apart, putting him an inch closer to Sergio, and then Madrid scored, and Sergio took his excuse, as poor as it might be, and wrapped his arm around Luka’s shoulders. 

“Fuck off, Barca!” he said, shaking Luka and sort of half wrestling him for a second. Luka snorted a laugh and kept his hands on the bed and didn’t move away, and so Sergio left his arm around Luka’s shoulders and pulled Luka into him a bit, and then waited. 

Luka breathed in quick through his nose, kept his eyes on the laptop screen, and then just barely relaxed against Sergio’s chest. Sergio bit his tongue and pulled Luka closer and let his hand rest on Luka's arm, and then spent the rest of the half fucking cuddling with Luka, who was hot and soft and sweet.


	7. Chapter 7

The past month had been Luka’s best one outside of Croatia. His family was happy and his mom hadn’t cried about missing him for weeks, he was getting A’s and B’s in all his classes, and his team was playing amazing football. 

Crown had beat the three best teams in the conference in beautiful, brutal style, with Toni, Carlos, and Luka making up a smooth, smart midfield exactly how Luka liked and Karim and Sergio playing amazing on the ends of the pitch. Luka had given them both an assist in their last match, and as they’d pulled Luka into their celebrations and group hugs, Luka had felt warm and happy and at home with his team.

Their matches were always on Saturdays, so Sundays were recovery days, with no practice and no classes, and on every Sunday in October, Sergio and Luka had watched football together, which made Luka almost as happy as the wins and his grades. 

Sergio would pull up a game and tell Luka, “hey, there’s a good match on,” and look at Luka like a question and Luka would crawl into his bed and wait for Sergio to pull him into his side. Or Luka would tell Sergio, “My favorite team in the Croatian League is playing tonight,” and would come home from class to see that Sergio had the game playing on his laptop and was waiting for Luka. Every time they watched a match, Sergio would pull him close and keep him there, and Luka would relax into Sergio and let himself not feel weird about what he was doing. 

Luka knew it _ was _ weird to sit under another guy’s arm for ninety minutes, to cuddle up to Sergio like he did, but he loved it. He loved spending time with Sergio, and over the past month he’d gathered up a collection of moments with Sergio that he let himself think about only when he was stressed and lonely and really needed it. 

Sergio had cooked for Luka again. He’d made paella and kept his eyes on Luka as he took his first bite, his face open and excited as he watched for Luka’s reaction. Luka hated shrimp, but he smiled at Sergio as he swallowed one, and told him, “yum,” and Sergio’s wide, cocky grin had been worth it. 

At the end of their last match, Luka had dropped to the ground, lying back and looking at the sky and heaving breaths and smiling. Someone had stepped over him, blocking the sun, cleats sinking into the ground on either side of his hips, and even before Luka’s eyes could adjust he knew it was Sergio. Luka kept smiling and Sergio bent over him and grabbed his shirt, pulling him up so his shoulders curled off the ground, and Luka reached up to steady himself and grabbed Sergio’s biceps, his fingers digging into hard muscle. Sergio, his smile wide and his hair hanging in his face, had sworn, loud and excited, in Spanish, shaking Luka, before stepping back and pulling Luka up for a quick, tight hug. 

And he had talked to Sergio. Not a lot, not the way Sergio talked to him, telling him stories about his family and friends back home, giving Luka his opinions on books and movies, telling Luka all about his day. But the other day Luka had come back from class, stressing about getting a C on an assignment and annoyed that his professor wouldn’t make time to meet with him. He’d thought about calling his mom, but it was late in Croatia, and he didn’t want to worry her, anyway. He’d stepped into the dorm to see Sergio lying on his bed looking at his phone, and Sergio had smiled at him and said, “What’s up?” and Luka had been complaining to Sergio about his classes before he’d even thought out what he would say. Sergio had listened, and nodded, and laughed when Luka described the annoying guys who sat a row in front of him in his biology class, and when Sergio had to go to class an hour later, he’d stopped in front of Luka’s desk chair and grabbed Luka’s head with both hands, looking down at Luka for a long moment. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice low and kind, and Luka felt his lips part unconsciously. Sergio stepped away, ruffled Luka’s hair, and left, and Luka felt light and warm. 

One day during practice, Luka had scored a beautiful volley from outside the box. The whole team had whooped and whistled, and Sergio had run up to Luka, pressed his lips to his own palm, and then bent down to grab Luka’s boot with the hand he’d kissed. He’d smiled up at Luka, his hand wrapped around Luka’s right foot, and Luka had blushed like everyone on his team wasn’t standing around watching him. 

With Sergio, Luka thought, he could have half, or maybe a quarter, of what he wanted but couldn’t fully have. He could have a hot, sweet guy sitting close to him while they watched matches, playing great football with him on the field, talking to him about his family and his day as they ate together. He could have all that, and he didn’t have to worry about getting any more than he could handle. Because Sergio was unquestionably straight. 

And being friends with Sergio was great. He wasn’t just hot and intimidating and cocky like he’d seemed to Luka at first. He was passionate about every part of his life, happy and fun and so himself that he made Luka jealous.

So Luka, without even consciously deciding to, got comfortable around Sergio, let himself be close to Sergio in a way he hasn’t been with anyone since he came to the U.S. For the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t walking on a ledge, constantly about to fall off. 

Sergio and Luka were watching Real Madrid lose when the ground fell out from under Luka. 

Luka was slouched down under Sergio’s arm, his cheek pressed against the side of Sergio’s warm, hard chest. Sergio shifted, his arm moving a bit under Luka’s head, and then his fingers were on Luka’s hair. Brushing it away from his face, then gently scratching against his scalp. 

It wasn't something Sergio usually did. They cuddled, although Luka hated thinking of it that way, and Sergio sometimes hugged or casually touched him in practice. But the intimacy of Sergio's fingers in his hair made Luka straighten up a bit. Sergio didn’t move his hand. 

“Your hair is so soft,” he said, but his voice wasn’t casual, like he was making a stray observation, or light, like he was joking. It was soft and focused and warm. Luka glanced sideways at him and found Sergio’s eyes dark and intense on his hair as it sifted through his fingers. His gaze slid down Luka’s face, just briefly meeting his eyes, and then landed lower, on Luka’s mouth.

Luka felt Sergio’s attention in his lungs and his cock. “Sergio,” he said, making his voice calm and abrupt, trying to make Sergio flinch back and look away and stop whatever it was he was doing. 

But Sergio just blinked, slow, and raised his eyes to Luka’s. He was quiet for a long moment, and Luka could do nothing but look at him and wait, feeling breathless and scared. “I’m still not sure if you’re straight or not,” Sergio said, careful and calm, and Luka’s stomach turned. “And I don’t want to make things weird between us. But,” he said, “I really want to tell you that I like you.” 

Luka stared at Sergio with his mouth open, his thoughts nothing but, _ I like you _, over and over, in Sergio’s lilting voice. “What?” Luka said, feeling like he sometimes did when someone spoke English and he was too tired to keep up, translating everything in his head, two sentences behind. 

Sergio kept his eyes calm on Luka’s. “I mean, I _ like _ you. I’m into you.” When Luka started at him like he wasn’t making sense, because, fuck, he _ wasn’t, _Sergio said, like it was obvious and simple and not world-rocking, “I’m gay." 

Luka audibly sucked in a desperate breath. “What?” he said again, his blood rushing and pounding in his head. 

“Yeah,” Sergio said, studying Luka. After a long moment, he chuckled and said, “I thought you knew that at least. Straight guys don’t usually touch each other the way we do. The way I touch you, I mean.” 

Luka breathed and tried to catch up, to wrap his mind around what Sergio was telling him, and when he finally did, he looked up to see Sergio frowning at him, looking confused.

_ Tell him, _ Luka thought, a whisper from the back of his mind _ . _ He could: he could tell Sergio that he was the hottest thing Luka had ever seen and that he was so fucking starving for Sergio’s cock, and Sergio could do something about it. He _ would _do something, Luka knew; he would take Luka apart so that he couldn’t ever put himself together the same way. And Luka would fucking love it; wanted it almost, but not quite, more than he’d ever wanted anything. But there was also, always, Luka’s family, and his future.

“I know you don’t like talking about your feelings,” Sergio said after a long moment, his eyes serious. “Just tell me if you want me to kiss you or not, and we’ll figure it out from there, okay?”

Luka closed his mouth and licked his lips, and the way Sergio’s eyes followed the path of his tongue warmed him up from the inside and made his cock press hard against the fabric of his briefs. He felt Sergio’s words, his intense eyes, his willingness to wait for Luka, to take Luka’s yes or no and figure everything else out for him, and everything Luka had ever wanted seemed closer and easier and more possible than it had ever been before. 

But Luka had no plans to tell Sergio or maybe anyone ever about that secret, shameful part of him. 

So he lied, even as he imagined Sergio leaning forward and putting his hands around Luka’s waist or on his chin or in his hair, pulling him close against his big, hard body, and pressing his full lips to Luka’s. He told Sergio, “No,” and turned away almost in time to avoid seeing Sergio wince. 

Luka made himself scoot awkwardly to the edge of Sergio’s bed, feeling sick to his stomach. “Sorry,” he said, his voice quick and harsh, and then he got up and rushed out the door of their dorm and went for a long, hard run. 


	8. Chapter 8

Luka spent the week after Sergio told him he was gay thinking about nothing but sex. His eyes stuck to Sergio every time he was around. He was tuned in to Sergio’s movements and voice even when they were across the field from each other in practice. He layed in his bed next to Sergio’s and had thoughts and dreams so hot and fucking wild he couldn’t meet Sergio’s eyes.

When Sergio tried to talk to him, he had to grind his teeth to keep from telling the truth. To keep from saying, _ “yes, please, I want you to kiss me” _ or _ “I had a dream you fucked me so hard I came just from your cock” _ or, fucking worse than anything else, _ “I’m gay, too.” _

Luka had no question that he was gay. Even if he hadn’t been sure before, seeing Sergio naked in the locker room for the first time--tattoos and cut muscles and heavy cock and balls that made Luka's mouth water--would have confirmed it. But there was a difference between being gay in his head and being gay with other people, and Luka had never lived in a world or a family or a sport where the second one was even an option. 

The fact that Sergio--strong, big, rough, fun Sergio who everyone on the team loved--said he was gay was astounding, and earthshaking, and so fucking hot that Luka couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So he spent a whole week in his head, fantasizing about Sergio and feeling awkward around him and then scolding himself, and then thinking, quiet and delicate and tentative--_ maybe. _

They had a match on Wednesday against a mid-table team. Luka and Sergio walked to the field together, as always, and Luka tried to get his mind out of Sergio’s pants so he could play a decent game. 

“How was your match with these guys last year?” Sergio asked. 

“I don’t remember,” Luka said, because in the moment, he didn’t. 

“Fuck, Luka,” Sergio said, his voice suddenly tense and loud, and Luka started and looked sideways, catching Sergio’s eyes, which were angry and sad. Sergio stopped walking. “Do you have a problem with me being gay?”

Luka blinked. “What?” he asked. 

Sergio huffed a breath and spread his arms, and when he spoke again he was almost yelling. “You won’t fucking talk to me, and you won’t look at me, and it feels like you’re scared to get too close to me. I thought--” he stumbled over his words, which Luka wasn’t sure he’s ever heard Sergio do before. “I thought you would be cool,” he finished. 

Luka opened his mouth, and then shut it. He wanted to look away from Sergio, because he was _ ashamed _of himself. He realized that while he’d been in his head, arguing with himself over whether he could afford to let himself have anything Sergio had offered him, he’d treated Sergio exactly the way Luka had nightmares about people treating him: like he was wrong and bad and dirty. 

“I’m so sorry,” Luka said, trying to make his voice sound as sincere as he felt. “I--” he paused. _ I’m gay, I’m gay, I’m gay _ . He’d almost never even _ thought _it before the last week, and now here he was, with it in the back of his throat, and, he was sure, all over his face as he looked up at Sergio. “I didn’t mean to act that way with you,” he said after a long moment. “I don't have a problem with you being gay. I, um, think you were really brave to tell me. I just got in my head because I was surprised.” 

Sergio frowned and looked away. “Yeah,” he said. He paused and Luka could _ see _the way his words went through Sergio: he breathed out and his shoulders fell back and his eyes cleared a bit. When he spoke again, his voice was lighter. “I would have tried to ease you into it a little more--but, like, I thought you knew. I thought I’d been easing you into it for weeks.” Luka blushed. Sergio frowned and then suddenly his face heated and he squinted at Luka. “Do you do that kind of thing with all the guys you’re friends with?” he asked, lowering his eyebrows. 

“No,” Luka said honestly. “I don’t really have friends.” 

Sergio’s frown shifted, so he didn’t look angry anymore, but just sad. “We’re friends,” he said. 

Luka swallowed. “Yeah?” he said. “Even though I made you feel shitty?”

“Yeah,” Sergio said. “I’m going to give up a stupid goal tonight to pay you back, though.” Luka laughed, and Sergio smiled down at him, his eyes warm, and Luka bit his lip and pushed his hair behind his ear and felt happy and good and anxious in a good way. 

Sergio was unplayable. He stole the ball from any player who came near him, made quick, effortless tackles, cut off passes constantly. Luka watched him play and tried not to get too distracted by him, but when they’d won the match 5-0, he sat in the locker room across from Sergio and couldn’t take his eyes off him. 

He tried to listen to Zidane. But with Sergio sitting on the bench across from him, his smile shiny and cocky, his thick, muscled thighs spread, his whole body coated in sweat, his cock bulging against the fabric of his briefs, Luka couldn’t focus. He thought about how it would feel to be on his knees between Sergio’s thighs, his mouth filled with cock. He thought about Sergio telling him, _ “I kept a clean sheet like I know you wanted, now you give me what I want.” _ He thought about Sergio sucking _ his _cock, and then blushed so hard he was sure anyone who looked at him noticed.

Back in their room, Sergio laid down on his bed, head on his pillow, and said, in a voice that sounded forcibly light and casual, “Want to watch a match?” 

They hadn’t watched football together since Sergio had told Luka he was gay last week. They hadn’t touched at all since then, actually, and Luka, who couldn’t remember touching anyone at all last semester, felt like he’d been forced not to drink water for a week. 

He didn’t want to watch football. He wanted to get on Sergio’s bed and do a hundred other things. He wanted to tell Sergio what he’d started to think about late at night when he couldn’t sleep. That he was scared, that he never planned to do anything with another guy, but that he thought maybe with Sergio it would be okay. But he just said, “Okay,” because thinking about telling Sergio what he really wanted was like thinking about speaking a language he’d never even heard.

As soon as he said it he saw Sergio relax, and he realized Sergio had been testing him, seeing if Luka was okay enough with Sergio being gay to lie down next to him. Sergio scooted over a bit but didn’t move to lean against the wall like he normally did. He pulled his laptop onto his stomach, put his hand being his head, and stayed stretched out on the bed. 

Luka was breathless and slow and awkward as he sat on the edge of the bed, then tried to arrange himself so he wansn’t _quite_ all over Sergio but was still touching him at several points. He ended up on his side, facing Sergio, his knee brushing Sergio’s thigh, his head just barely resting on the flexed bicep of the arm Sergio had propped behind his head, his hand a fist as it rested on Sergio’s ribs. All he could do was feel and smell Sergio, spicy and warm. 

Luka had no idea how many minutes played while he listened to Sergio’s breathing and thought about all the things he wanted to do and couldn’t do and fucking _ needed _to do. 

He thought about the way Sergio told him, _ “I’m gay,” _ like it was just part of him, like there was no question, like he wasn’t scared or embarassed or unsure.

He swallowed, and turned his head just slightly, his cheek rubbing against the skin of Serigo’s arm, so he was looking at Sergio’s face. He was beautiful in profile, calm and relaxed as he watched the computer screen. 

Sergio glanced at him and smiled a bit. “I missed doing this with you,” he said, straightforward and clear, like it wasn’t one of the most breathtaking things Luka had ever been told. Luka opened his mouth and blinked and said nothing. Sergio shifted his arm so Luka’s head slid even closer, then turned back to the game. 

Luka took a deep breath, centering himself like he did before taking a penalty kick, and then pushed forward just a bit to press his lips against the side of Sergio’s neck, right over his pulse. 

“Luka,” Sergio gasped, and his body jerked all over. He stilled, and then they both held still for a moment, Luka’s lips trembling on Sergio’s quickly thumping pulse.

Then Sergio shoved his laptop off to the side and rolled so he was facing Luka and took Luka’s face in both his hands. He looked intently down at Luka, his eyes dark and hot, and just studied Luka’s face. “Do you want me?” he finally asked.

Luka nodded, his eyes so wide they hurt, his breath coming in quick, loud pants.

“Fuck,” Sergio said, and then pulled Luka closer, wrapping one arm around Luka’s waist and putting one knee over Luka’s and then leaning over so he was half lying on Luka, so that Luka was wrapped up in him. Then he used the hand on Luka’s jaw to tilt Luka’s head, and then he kissed Luka. 

Luka had never kissed anyone before, and he didn’t know what to do, and he’d always thought he’d be nervous and in his head and bad when it finally happened, but Sergio’s lips guided Luka’s, moving and shifting, soft and hot, and Luka didn’t even have to think, didn’t have to do anything but feel, and then part his mouth to let in Sergio’s tongue. 

Luka felt--he felt--fucking taken apart, just like he’d known he would. Sergio’s tongue was licking into his mouth, touching him where he’d never been touched by another person, finding spots that Luka hadn’t even known were sensitive and teasing them until Luka was writhing and whimpering. Luka put his palms on Sergio’s stomach and rubbed upwards, feeling hard muscles jumping under his hands. 

They kissed for a long time. Luka thought maybe too long--he didn’t want to bore Sergio, who he could tell without a doubt had spent a lot of time kissing before, while Luka was experiencing something entirely new and shockingly good and would be happy to keep doing it for a long, long time. 

Sergio moaned into Luka’s mouth and used the arm around Luka’s waist to pull Luka into him, sliding him across the bed and into the cradle of his legs, then shifting so his hip brushed against Luka’s cock, which Luka suddenly realized was hard and hot and straining. Then Sergio shifted, and Luka felt Sergio’s cock press hard against his thigh. 

He lost his breath into Sergio’s mouth and his whole body twitched, and he felt so fucking hot and needy. 

Then, because he wanted to and he didn’t know if he’d ever have another chance to, he pulled his lips away from Sergio’s, pushed Sergio onto his back, and quickly moved so he sat on his knees between Sergio’s legs. 

“_ Luka, _” Sergio breathed. 

Luka was nervous, but he knew what he wanted, and he’d thought about exactly how he’d do this hundreds of times. He made his mind slow down like it did during a match so that he could take in everything that happened frame by frame. 

His fingers in the waistband of Sergio’s shorts.

Sergio lifting his hips to let Luka pull them off. 

Skin fading from dark bronze to pale gold. A patch of dark hair.

Sergio’s cock popping free, slapping against his stomach, thick and uncut and dark with blood. 

Then Luka couldn’t focus anymore. He grabbed the base of Sergio’s cock and barely heard Sergio’s groan as he tilted it up and fed it into his mouth, sucking and licking, his mouth wet and stretched. 

Later, Luka would be embarrassed about the way he bobbed his head on Sergio’s cock, so fast and slutty, but in the moment he was lost in the smooth, shockingly hot skin of the head of Sergio’s cock on his tongue, the heavy fullness in his mouth, the weight of Sergio’s balls in his palm, the constant sound of Sergio’s pants and grunts and moans, and of him saying Luka’s name like he was amazed. 

“Hey,” Sergio said after a few minutes, urgent and quick, “hey, get up here and let me get you off. I’m-oh shit_, _ close. Fuck, Luka. Come on, come here.” Luka glanced up to see Sergio looking down at him with desperate eyes. He had one hand on his chest, fingers stroking his nipple, and the other was patting the bed up by his head. Luka shook his head as much as he could with Sergio’s cock in his mouth. Sergio groaned. “Touch your_self_, then. Ah, Luka, make yourself come.”

Luka moaned around Sergio’s cock and shoved a hand into his shorts, wrapping his hand tight around his dick, which was already wet and leaking. 

“Yeah,” Sergio said, and his hips thrust a bit into Luka’s mouth, making Luka choke, which made his cock jerk in his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” Sergio said.

Luka took his hand off the base of Sergio’s dick and pressed his fingers hard into the back of Sergio’s thigh, pushing Sergio up towards his mouth. Sergio thrust again, hitting the back of Luka’s throat, and the sloppy sounds Luka couldn’t help, the mess of spit between his mouth and Sergio’s cock, and the sudden pull of Sergio’s hand in his hair made Luka shake, straining and tense and sensitive, like every nerve in his body was in his cock and all of them felt good, and then he came, moaning and whining around the thick cock in his mouth, closing his eyes tight and sucking as hard as he could.

Sergio called out and pushed hard at Luka’s face, pulling him off his cock, and Luka was too shocked to do anything but go where Sergio moved him and then stay there, his eyes a few inches from Sergio’s cock as Sergio stroked himself so quick his hand blurred, and then came, cum striping and pooling over his abs. 

“Wow,” Sergio panted, cupping his cock with one hand and reaching down to brush Luka’s hair behind his ear with the other. “Luka, wow.” 

Luka glanced up and found Serio grinning down at him, looking hot and kind and satisfied. Luka needed to thank Sergio and then beg him to pretend that this had never happened. He needed to get out of Sergio's bed and brush his teeth and wash cum off his hand. 

He _ would, _but for a second he let himself stay still between Sergio’s legs, let himself drop his head so his face rested against Sergio’s thigh, right next to his cock wet with Luka’s spit. "Yeah," he said. _Wow_, he thought. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I spent so much time on this chapter. It was originally like twice this length, but I decided to split it up to give you guys something to read while I finish the other half. The next chapter will have more plot and hopefully be up soon! Enjoy! 😊

Luka woke up cold, turned up the thermostat, made himself not look at Sergio’s bed, and went for a run. 

It was cold out, but not nearly as bad as Luka knew it would be in another month. Luka didn’t usually like the cold, but it felt good as he ran, making his skin feel cool and clean and making the trees and grass still and quiet, giving Luka space to think about the night before. 

He ran his usual route past the red brick dorms and to the lake, which was covered in a thin, thin sheet of ice. It was already melted through in some spots, so barely-there that Luka didn’t think he could touch it softly enough to keep from cracking it. 

Sergio could, though. Sergio could touch something delicate so softly that it was almost like he wasn’t touching it at all. Luka knew, because last night after he’d pulled his head off Sergio’s thigh and rolled up to sit on the side of the bed and hunched over with his head in his hands, Sergio had put his palm on Luka’s shoulder so gently Luka had lost his breath. 

It was like Luka normally lived inside a glacier, safe and cool and still with miles of ice between him and anyone else, and being with Sergio had melted all but a milimeter of that ice, leaving Luka feeling scared and exposed and breakable. But Sergio had rubbed Luka's back in soft, slow motions, keeping his body on the bed, an arm’s length away from Luka's, until Luka felt sturdy again. Sergio’s touch, so hot and soft, hadnt cracked him--it didn’t take him apart like he’d thought it would--it had held him together. 

Luka had always thought that if he ever let himself do anything like he did with Sergio he would feel dirty and guilty and shameful, like he did after he had a dream about sex or after he got himself off thinking about other guys. He kept waiting to feel that tightening in his stomach and his throat, to think, _ how can I talk to my mom now that I’ve done this, _ to panic about someone finding out. But those thoughts didn’t come, and he couldn’t stop feeling...just _ good _ . Torn open and changed and delicate as glass, but _ right _and happy and hungry for more. 

And maybe he could have it. Sergio, for some reason, seemed to want Luka. And even though he’d only known Sergio for two months, Luka knew in his bones that he could trust Sergio with his secret and his body and a little, tiny piece of his soul. 

Maybe, he thought as he made a loop around a block and headed back towards the dorm, Sergio was like a gift for him, a chance for him to do the things he wanted while it was still relatively safe. He was in college, where people didn’t take sex seriously. He wasn’t well known like he hoped he would be once he graduated. This year was maybe his last chance to be with another guy, and, miracle of miracles, he was sharing a room with the hottest guy he’d ever seen, who, astoundingly, was gay. 

By the time he got back to their dorm room, he’d made up his mind. 

He opened the door to find Sergio sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. It reminded Luka so much of the way Sergio had sat weeks ago when his dog had died that his heart sped up. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he shut the door behind him. 

Sergio blinked up at him. He opened and closed his mouth, then shook his head. “What?” he asked, sounding confused. 

“Are you okay?” Luka asked, and then, hard as a tackle, it hit him that Sergio might regret what they’d done. He turned toward his dresser and dug around for a towel, ready to escape to the shower. 

Sergio scoffed, making Luka flinch. When Sergio spoke his voice was tense and vulnerable. “Luka, are _ you _okay?”

Luka could say--he could lie, and say no, he wasn’t okay about last night, that he regretted it and didnt want Sergio to touch him ever again. Or he could tell Sergio yes, and if Sergio didn’t want him anymore Luka would be left so embarrassed he didn’t know how he could play with Sergio for the rest of the season. Or he could say yes, and maybe Sergio would say yes, and then he could suck Sergio’s dick again.

“I’m good,” Luka said, his voice wobbly. He turned towards Sergio and made himself look him in the eye. He forced himself to smile, his lips tight together, feeling like ice waiting to be cracked. 

Sergio studied his face for a moment, and then visibly relaxed. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes quickly and then looked back at Luka, his face open and anxious. “Luka, last night was so fucking perfect.” Luka bit his lip and felt light and bright and warm. Sergio took a big breath, and then spoke, quick and careful, like he’d already thought through what he wanted to say. “I have no idea what you’re thinking, but here’s what I’m thinking. I think you trust me a little, and it seems like maybe you don’t have a lot of people you trust. You _ can _trust me--I want you to trust me, and I want to do whatever is going to make you keep feeling good around me. If you want, we can just keep hanging out and watching football and talking. I love doing that stuff with you. Or we can do...more of whatever you want.”

Luka had spent his entire run convincing himself that doing this with Sergio would be safe. Now he realized for the first time how dangerous letting himself be with Sergio could be--because besides being hot, he was also one of Luka's favorite people he'd ever met. But he’d spent years learning how to guard himself, to keep some of his feelings locked up. He swallowed and answered, quick and quiet as a breath, “I want to keep doing what we did last night.” 

Sergio smiled so wide it turned into a laugh. “Okay, cool. Me too.” They were both quiet for a moment, Luka standing by his dresser with his towel in his hands, sweat drying on his skin and making him cold, his eyes skipping all over Sergio’s body, Sergio sitting on his bed beaming at Luka like Luka was worthy of being beamed at by someone like Sergio. 

“Okay ” Luka shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I have to shower,” he said, and then turned and left the room.

He wasn’t sure how things went now with Sergio--whether they would mess around again when Luka got back to the room, or if they would just study on their separate sides of the dorm, or if Sergio would have gone to the gym to work out. He knew what his first choice was.

But in case Sergio didn't want to hook up as soon as Luka got in the room, Luka figured he should make himself come now so he didn’t come back to the room hard and horny and embarrass himself.

So he got himself off in the shower, holding his mouth wide open and imagining Sergio’s dick filling it, then dipping his chin into the spray from the shower, swallowing hot water and pretending it was Sergio’s cum. 

When he came back into the dorm, hair wet and dripping down his back, his skin bare except for the towel around his waist, he realized how cold it still was. Sergio, who spent most of his time in their dorm at least half undressed, was wearing jeans, thick socks, and a white long sleeved shirt. “The heat isn’t working,” he said, eyes running up and down Luka’s body. “They sent an email saying they’re fixing it.” 

Luka nodded and turned toward his dresser, pulling open a drawer and picking out his warmest clothes.

He unwrapped his towel and threw it over the wall hook next to his dresser, and as he bent to pull on his briefs he heard Sergio breathe out, shaky and loud. He looked backwards under his arm to see Sergio’s eyes hot and hazy as he started at Luka’s back. Luka blushed and fumbled to pull his underwear the rest of the way up, unable to look away from Sergio. When Luka had his feet into the legs of his briefs, Sergio straightened and his eyes cleared and shifted to meet Luka’s. “Wait,” he said, “don’t get dressed.” 

Luka bit his tongue hard and, before he even thought to do it, froze; bent over, his hands holding his briefs around his thighs. He stayed still even as the muscles in his thighs shook like he’d just finished a hard run and his cock hardened between his legs. Sergio’s eyes traced every inch of his body--his back, his thighs, his ass, his balls. They were both still for long moments, Sergio looking at Luka’s body, and Luka watching him look. 

Then Sergio stood up and crossed the room in two steps. He grabbed Luka’s shoulder and pulled Luka up at the same time that he stepped into him, so that Luka’s back was pressed along every inch of Sergio’s front, and then he put a hand on Luka’s neck, turned his head, and kissed him. 

He kissed Luka hard and insistent, prying his mouth wide open and fucking it with his tongue. He ran a hand up Luka’s side and then brought it to Luka’s nipple, stroking and rolling as he rubbed his tongue along the roof of Luka’s mouth and ground his cock, hard and hot through his rough jeans, against Luka’s ass, which made Luka clench and turned him on maybe more than anything he’d ever felt before.

Luka didn’t know if he should grind back into Sergio’s cock, if he should arch his chest against Sergio’s hand. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he kept them clutched around the fabric of his underwear at his thighs, and stood still, and held his lips open for Sergio and gave every millimeter of his mouth to him. 

Sergio dropped his hand from Luka’s neck to Luka’s cock, wrapping it tight around Luka where he was achingly hard and stroking up with a twist of his fist. “Luka,” he moaned, and Luka thrust into his hand and then pulled back just as quickly. Sergio’s hand on him was--it was hot and big and everything he wanted and not something Luka could have for himself. He twisted out of Sergio’s arms, dropped to his knees, and pulled Sergio’s pants down to his thighs. Sergio’s cock was hard and huge and thick, just as perfect as it had been the night before, and Luka sighed happily and rubbed his cheek against the side of the head. “Yeah, Luka,” Sergio breathed, threading his fingers into Luka’s hair. “That’s yours. It's for you.” 

Luka slid his mouth down Sergio’s dick, sucking so his lips were tight, and Sergio spread his legs and rubbed his fingers into Luka’s scalp and panted. Sergio’s cock was so thick he stretched the sides of Luka’s mouth till they stung; it was so long it was constantly nudging the back of Luka’s throat, making his eyes water. Luka lapped his tongue against the underside as he bobbed his head up and down, loving how full Sergio made him. 

Sergio said Luka’s name loudly, his voice rough, and then he shuddered and put a heavy hand on Luka’s shoulder, leaning on him like he couldn’t hold himself up. Luka swallowed his cum and swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock to make sure he got it all.

Sergio had come faster than he had the day before, Luka was pretty sure. 

Luka hadn’t touched himself while he sucked Sergio. His cock was so hard and sensitive that he almost felt like the _ air _could get him off. He stayed hard while he held Sergio’s cock between his lips for long minutes as it softened. He sat on his knees with his forehead pressed against Sergio’s heaving abs, Sergio’s hand cupping the back of his head, and he thought that even if he didn’t come this would be the most satisfied he’d ever been. 

Sergio groaned and pulled out of Luka’s mouth, and Luka licked his lips and made himself look up and meet Sergio’s gaze. Sergio’s eyes were dark and intent as he took Luka in, his lips parted like he was shocked. Luka looked away, his face hot. He was knelt before Sergio like a whore: cum on his lips, underwear stretched around his thighs, cock hard and red and leaking. 

“Fuck you’re so hot,” Sergio said, and then dropped to his knees in front of Luka. Luka’s eyes flew to Sergio’s just as Sergio put a hand on Luka’s chest, pushing him back like he wanted him to sit on his ass, and leaned his head down toward Luka’s cock.

Luka shoved his hand against Sergio’s face so desperately he poked Serigo’s eye a little bit. “Sorry,” he said, shifting to push the heel of his hand against Sergio’s forehead. “I don’t want that,” he said shakily when Sergio stayed where he was, mouth hovering just above the head of Luka’s dick. 

Sergio pulled back. He stopped pushing against Luka’s chest but moved his hand to his shoulder and kneaded, his thumb digging into tense muscle in a way that made it ache, and then relax. He looked at Luka for a long moment and Luka, who tried never to show what he was thinking on his face, hoped Sergio could read him, because the last thing he wanted to do was talk about any of this. 

“You want to get yourself off?” Sergio asked gently, and Luka nodded, fast and grateful. Sergio nodded once, slowly. “Can I watch?” he asked. Luka’s breath stuttered out of him, and his stomach felt tight. “Or can I kiss you?” Sergio asked, so soft that there was nothing in the world Luka wanted to do more than kiss him. He leaned forward and up, pressing his lips to Sergio’s. 

Sergio didn’t dive into Luka’s mouth the way he had before. He moved his lips along with Luka’s, but he was waiting, Luka could tell. Luka hesitated. For a long time, he kissed Sergio sweet and slow and dry, and only when he felt like he would die if he didn’t do something more did he press his tongue to the seam of Sergio’s lips. Sergio hummed and opened for him, and when Luka tentatively licked into Sergio’s mouth, Sergio greeted him with a sweep of his tongue against Luka’s. He touched Luka’s bicep, then trailed his fingers down his arm, his touch so light Luka shivered. When Sergio reached Luka’s wrist, he picked up Luka’s hand and moved it so his palm rested on the top of his cock. So quick that he barely felt it, Sergio tightened his hand into a fist over Luka’s, then pulled away, leaving Luka’s hand wrapped tightly around himself. 

Luka felt fluttery and nervous in a way he hadn’t last night, when he was so desperate he had barely been able to think. Sergio cupped Luka’s face in both his hands and pulled back, opening his eyes and looking only at Luka’s face. “Come on,” he said, nodding his chin down towards Luka’s cock but not moving his deep brown eyes from Luka’s. Luka stroked once, long and slow, and Sergio smiled. “Good boy,” he said, words Luka unexpectedly felt in his balls, and then he pressed his lips back against Luka’s. 

Luka stroked himself without rhythm, too in his head and into Sergio to get it right. He felt like he would never be able to come. He wasn’t sure if he was doing a good job of kissing Sergio. He shouldn't have gotten off in the shower; now he was boring Sergio. He pulled away once, about to tell Sergio to move on with his day and not worry about Luka coming, but Sergio cupped the back of his neck and stopped him. "C'mere," he said, his voice not frustrated but not quite patient either-- maybe determined. He dropped one hand to Luka’s hip and squeezed, firm and steady.

Luka kept getting distracted by the ache of his knees pressing into the hard tile floor, and by thoughts of Sergio’s knees hurting too, and by thinking about how amazing it was that he had Sergio kneeling in front of him kissing him and how much he didn’t want to mess that up. Then Sergio squeezed his hip, his thumb rubbing circles in the hollow there and his four fingers digging into the muscle at Luka’s back hard enough to bruise, and then he bit Luka’s tongue, soft but sharp so it ached and stung, and Luka came.

His orgasm came from nowhere. His hand on his cock felt fine, and then suddenly it felt so good he sobbed into Sergio’s mouth. Sergio kissed him through it, finally taking over when Luka became totally incapable of moving his lips. His tongue lapped into Luka’s mouth as Luka came, wet and hungry like he wanted to taste every inch of him. 

“There you go,” Sergio panted, sounding as breathless as Luka was. He pulled Luka’s head down to rest against his shoulder, tilting Luka’s eyes to the space between their legs. To Luka’s naked thighs and stomach and cock, and to Sergio almost fully dressed. To Luka’s cum on the floor, his hand resting on his thigh to hold himself up, Sergio’s soft cock and balls still hanging out of the top of his pants. He shivered and pushed himself closer to Sergio. Sergio hummed and wrapped his arms around Luka’s back, giving him a hard hug, his chest and muscular arms firm against Luka’s body.

He pulled away a moment later, and they both stood and cleaned up. Luka kept his head down and glanced at Sergio from under his brows as he dressed in sweats and a hoodie, put on socks and pulled his hood over his now almost dry hair. _ Now what? _he wanted to ask. 

“Hey, I want to show you something,” Sergio said like an answer. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled a notebook out of his backpack and patted the space next to him. Luka went to him, sitting down carefully with a bit of space between him and Sergio. _ Why does that matter now, when you can still taste his cum and his spit in your mouth? _

“I’m taking a drawing class this semester,” Sergio said. “I could never draw before, but this class is amazing.” He opened the book on his lap and flipped to the second page to show Luka a pencil drawing of a bird. It was detailed, so you could see he’d really tried, but the proportions were off--the eye was huge, and the body too small, and there were eraser marks all over the page. Luka couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to draw something--maybe when he was in primary school. Sergio’s bird was certainly better than one he could draw, and he’d tried--he’d signed up for a drawing class, which is something Luka would never even consider. And the fact that Sergio was showing Luka his drawing was so cute and open it made Luka blush. 

“Wow, that’s cool,” Luka said, smiling at Sergio. 

Sergio grinned. “Thanks, Luka. This is from the first day of class.” Then he paged through the book too quickly for Luka to focus on anything, finding the page he wanted and folding the book open and showing Luka a new drawing.

It was a bird again, again done in pencil, but this time, it was beautiful. The bird was flying, its wings made of sweeping, arcing lines. Its feet were curled up close to its body, its claws sharp looking; each toe of its foot drawn precisely. It’s eye was white, not black, and it made the bird look sort of ominous and cold. Luka didn’t know what to say to genuinely tell Sergio how impressed he was with the drawing. It was beautiful and so _ lively _, even though it was done just in shades of grey. “Wow,” he said, then paused for a long moment. “Sergio, that’s really good.” 

Sergio smiled proudly. “Thank you. It was fun. I couldn’t believe how well it was turning out while I was drawing it,” he laughed. “I kept thinking, ‘The next line I draw is going to fuck up the whole thing.’” He shut the book and put it back into his bag, then leaned back onto his hands and looked at Luka. “What do you like to do besides play football?”

Luka cringed. There was maybe no question he’d been asked more in his life, and still it left him feeling wrongfooted. “Nothing, really,” he said honestly. He thought it was nice that some people, like Sergio or Luka’s sister, could do tons of different things and be good at all of them. Luka felt like his life was too full already, with training and workouts and strategy and how much he fucking loved football. “What else do you like to do?” he asked.

“I like art in general. I play guitar. I like cooking. Come on, there’s nothing you like doing other than playing football?”

_ Sucking your dick, _Luka thought. “I like being with my family,” he said after a moment. “We go to the beach every year. I like the ocean.” 

“I love the beach,” Sergio sighed, and then told a story about his family's last trip to the beach that had Luka crying with laughter. 

Sergio and Luka talked on Sergio’s bed for hours, about different places they’d traveled to and all the things Sergio liked to do and about their home countries and what they thought about living in the U.S. and only a little about football. Sergio knew about _ everything _ \--politics and sports and charity and music and food. And he _ cared _ about everything; he was alive for things in a way that made Luka feel more alive, too. 

_ I like talking to you, _Luka could have said at the end. 

Eventually, they both had to go to class. Sergio waited at the door for Luka as he shoved his books and laptop into his bag, feeling clumsy under Sergio’s gaze. When Luka came to the door, Sergio put a hand on Luka’s shoulder and leaned in to press his cheek, his soft beard, to the side of Luka’s face, kissing him quick and dry like they were back in Europe. “See you later,” he said as he opened the door and held it for Luka, smiling down at him. 

Luka couldn’t think of anything to say. He nodded and ducked under Sergio’s arm and walked so quickly to class he was almost jogging. 

After his classes, Luka had to make himself go to the library instead of sprinting right back to the dorm. He sat at a table on the third floor looking out at the lake and watched occasional light flurries of snow fly by. He studied for a test he had next week and wrote down upcoming due dates in his planner, which his advisor had insisted he do last year when he’d had to meet with her for help so he wouldn’t fail all his classes. It was stupid, Luka thought, but he kind of liked planning out his weeks and months with little notes in his planner.

When it was starting to get dark, he let himself head back to the dorm, stopping by the cafeteria to quickly eat. 

The heat was still out. When Luka walked into the building, it hardly felt warmer than it had outside. In their room, Sergio was lying down cuddled into a pile of blankets, shivering.

“Brr,” Luka said, nodding a greeting at Sergio. 

“It’s fucking freezing,” Sergio said, his voice whiney and grumpy. “Bring your blanket over here. We have to cuddle together for warmth or we’ll freeze to death in our sleep.” 

Luka dropped his bag and stood awkwardly for a minute. He wasn’t sure if Sergio was being serious or not. Sleeping in the same bed as Sergio was weird. But it _ was _freezing, and Sergio was always warm. 

“Come on,” Sergio said, raising an eyebrow at Luka and waiting. 

Luka bit his tongue and looked at Sergio and grabbed his blanket and pillow, which both matched the ones already on Sergio’s bed. Sergio held his blanket up and Luka crawled under it into instant warmth. Sergio spread Luka’s blanket on top of his own, and then settled down next to Luka, slinging an arm over his waist and pushing his hair behind his ear. Luka reached up and did the same, running his fingers through Sergio’s thick, beautiful brown hair and pushing it off his forehead. Then they looked at each other for a long moment. Sergio’s eyes went all over Luka’s face but kept coming back to his eyes. Luka could feel himself frowning, because he was supposed to be sucking Sergio’s cock, not staring at him like he was in love. 

Sergio--perfect, everything Luka needed, Sergio--seemed to sense Luka getting uncomfortable. He leaned forward and kissed Luka’s forehead, then rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. Luka relaxed immediately without the pressure of Sergio’s gaze, leaning into Sergio so their chests pressed together and so he could feel the rumble in Sergio’s chest when that made him hum happily. Then, he closed his eyes, and then, without even _ trying to, _he fell asleep. 

Luka woke up at dawn covered in sweat, so hot he felt breathless for a moment. He was still in Sergio’s arms and still under two layers of blankets. Sergio was sleeping, his breath warm on the top of Luka’s head. Luka used his toes to slowly pull the blankets off of them, exposing his damp skin to the now warm air of their dorm.

Sergio shifted and squeezed Luka, rolling his shoulders and seeming to gradually wake up and feel everything--the cloying, humid heat between them, the sweat coating their bodies and sticking them together, the tangle of their legs. Luka looked up at Sergio. His hair was messy and wild, his eyes bleary. “Sorry,” Sergio said, yawning and wrapping his arm further around Luka’s waist, pulling Luka’s hips into his. “I’m sweating on you.”

He didn’t pull away, though, and so Luka put a hand on his ribs and tucked his head back under his chin and went back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there might actually be too much sex in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy reading it! 😄

“You’ve never been with another guy before, right?” Sergio asked, fingers tracing shapes onto Luka’s back as Luka lay on his bed, naked, his back to Sergio. He’d just sucked Sergio’s cock and come on Sergio’s bed, and they were both just catching their breath. 

It didn’t surprise Luka that Sergio knew. They’d never talked about it, but Sergio could read him like no one he’d ever known, and Luka didn’t think it would be particularly difficult to notice how inexperienced Luka was. “I hadn’t been with anyone before you.” 

“Okay,” Sergio nodded. “And, so, do you like the things we do together?” It took Luka a moment to understand Sergio’s words, said in a voice that sounded falsely confident, and when he did, he rolled over to gape at Sergio. Sergio twisted his lips up in a tiny smile. “I know you always come, which is good. But you’re always so quiet and together. That’s fine--I mean, I love how you are. But you make me feel, like, upside down. So good I don’t know which way is up. I want to make sure I make you feel that good, too.”

Luka chewed his lip. Sergio’s words made him feel at once warm and cocky and so far out of his comfort zone that it was laughable. “You do,” Luka said honestly after a moment. Sergio said upside down; Luka had thought ‘taken apart_ . _ ’ 

“Okay.” Sergio paused, and looked at Luka seriously. “I know you don’t like to talk like this. One more question, okay?”

Luka hadn’t wanted to talk about Sergio being gay, either. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Sergio at all when they first started rooming together. And those conversations had led to him getting to suck Sergio’s dick, to feel safe in Sergio’s bed, to slowly learn that Sergio was one of the most interesting, sweet people he’d ever known. So Luka said, “Okay,” his voice a little wobbly. 

He couldn’t understand how Sergio’s voice was casual during a conversation like this, but as he asked Luka his next question, it was; calm and even like any answer Luka gave him was okay. “Are you nervous about me touching your cock, or _ scared _?”

Luka knew what Sergio was asking. He looked at Sergio and knew exactly what he meant. If Luka was scared, Sergio would accept it and wouldn’t try to touch Luka’s dick again. He would let Luka suck him off and and make himself come, and he wouldn’t ask Luka for anything more. If Luka was just nervous, Sergio would push Luka, slow but sure, until he wasn’t anymore. Luka licked his lips. “Nervous,” he said hoarsely. It was an invitation for Sergio to touch him more, and they both knew it. 

Sergio smiled, brilliant and white, and kissed Luka’s bicep. “Okay,” he said. He looked at the ceiling and kept smiling, and his eyes dropped back to Luka over and over again, open and excited. 

Luka should have said scared. He was constantly crossing lines he shouldn’t with Sergio; giving and taking more than he could afford to. But Sergio made him feel so safe that he couldn’t make himself be scared the way he used to be, and as he laid next to Sergio he didn’t even feel nervous anymore; he felt excited. 

*** 

Luka was on his bed studying when Sergio came into the dorm, shaking snow out of his hair and grinning. “Lukita, it’s snowing!” he said loudly, his eyes sparkling and his hair hanging in thick, damp strands over his forehead. 

Luka blinked flatly at him. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m in here.” 

Sergio rolled him onto his back, stretched out over top of him and kissed him for so long that Luka felt like he would die from it. He touched Luka’s face and hair gently and slowly, not putting his hands anywhere else. After what felt like hours he pulled away, leaned back onto his knees, and told Luka, in the same commanding voice he used on the field, “touch yourself.” Then he grabbed his own cock and started jerking himself off, right there between Luka’s thighs, and Luka was too turned on to get embarrassed about pulling his cock out and getting himself off as Sergio watched. 

He felt exposed and on display and embarrassed and so, so hot as Sergio’s intent, dark eyes followed the slide of his hand over his cock. He watched Sergio’s big, dark cock just as closely, licked his lips when precum beaded on it, missed it in his mouth but couldn’t fathom asking to stop what they were doing so he could suck it. He jerked himself off quickly, heat pooling in his dick, his balls heavy and warm, his legs writhing between Sergio’s thighs, and when he came on his stomach he said Sergio’s name. 

Sergio groaned and shifted closer. “Can I come on you?” he panted, and Luka nodded, wide eyed, and watched as Sergio’s hand sped up on his cock until he groaned out Luka’s name so loud Luka was afraid the people in the dorm next to theirs could hear, and then spurted his cum onto Luka’s stomach over Luka’s own. Then Sergio dropped down to his elbows, caging Luka in between them, and licked their spunk off of his skin in long, wet pulls of his tongue, and all Luka could do was tremble underneath him and put his hands in his hair and meet his hot, beautiful eyes as he did it. 

***

Usually Luka slept in his own bed after they got off, even when Sergio was warm and wrapped around him and clearly wanted him to say. One night after Luka sucked Sergio off, he went to get up almost immediately, pushing up on one arm to sit on the side of the bed. Sergio touched Luka’s forearm--not grabbed it, just put his fingertips on it, and then slid them down over his wrist to cup his hand. Luka looked over a shoulder at him to find Sergio’s eyes on their hands, looking affectionate and lonely, and he couldn’t make himself leave Sergio alone in his bed. He laid back down and rolled so his back was to Sergio, and Sergio immediately scooted into him, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his shoulder. 

Luka woke up to Sergio’s dick hard and hot against his ass. He flexed back against it before he had time to think, and Sergio had groaned warm against Luka’s neck and slid his cock slow and gentle along the crack of Luka’s ass. Luka lost his breath and Sergio mouthed at the back of his neck and reached around to feel his cock. First it was just the tips of his fingers, like he was checking to see if Luka was hard. When he felt Luka’s erection, he thrust against him again and wrapped his hand gently around him, licking the muscle of his shoulder. “Is this okay?” he asked, and Luka nodded quickly, just the idea of Sergio pulling away making him feel cold and empty and unsatisfied. 

Sergio tightened his grip around Luka’s dick and stroked it slow and skillful while he rubbed his own cock against Luka’s ass. He made them both come as Luka writhed against his hand and cock; Sergio held his cock so he came between the cheeks of Luka's ass, and Luka came on Sergio’s sheets. After, Sergio had used two fingers to clean his cum off Luka, brushing them sticky and slow over his rim, and by the time he was done Luka felt like he could come again. 

***

In one of their home matches, Luka scored a really nice volley from outside the box. As he celebrated with Karim, who’d given him the assist, he felt Sergio’s eyes on him like a touch. When Sergio got to Luka he looked at him hotly and yanked him hard into a rough hug, and Luka had smiled against his chest. 

Back in their dorm, Sergio had slammed the door and quickly undressed them both and then pulled Luka on top of him on the bed, so Luka was straddling his lap and their cocks were hard and arcing straight up just a breath away from each other. Sergio ran his hands up and down Luka’s thighs, staring at Luka’s cock and his legs and stomach and then his face, seeming like he didn’t know where to look, and Luka had felt hot in a way he never had before meeting Sergio_ . _ But he couldn’t not feel attractive when he had _ Sergio _, abs and tattoos and beautiful lips and sweet brown eyes and perfect hair, under him, looking at him with his mouth parted. 

After just watching Luka for long moments, Sergio wrapped his hands around Luka’s hips and pulled him closer, his knees sliding over the sheets, so their cocks were pressed up against each other. “Oh,” Luka had said stupidly, and Sergio had moaned in response and thrust up at the same time he jerked Luka’s hips to make him do the same. He looked up at Luka with pleading, hungry eyes that made Luka feel like he was on top of the world. “Make yourself come,” he’d begged Luka, and then looked back down at their cocks. Luka had taken a deep breath and then glanced down, too, and then he’d had no choice but to do what Sergio wanted and thrust against him, rough, clumsy friction, slippery precum, and the image of his own cock against Sergio’s slightly larger one. They’d panted and writhed and watched their cocks and thrust against each other, and then come moments apart, groaning and swearing. 

After, Sergio had pulled Luka down to him, pressing their sticky chests together, and kissed him so deep and desperate Luka felt it in his stomach.

***

It was snowing during training the next day. The field was heated, so the snow on the grass melted, leaving a precise rectangle of green surrounded by white. It was cold and wet, and Luka was feeling shivery and wilted, rolling a ball under his studs and standing silently with Karim, watching as the underclassmen lined up to shoot at the goalkeepers.

“There’s some good freshmen this year,” Karim said, pulling his hat down further over his forehead. 

Luka hummed in agreement. “They don’t even need us.” 

They were quiet for a moment as three forwards missed easy shots at goal. Karim huffed. “They need me to teach them how to shoot,” he said, making Luka laugh. “Your midfielders need you to yell at them to pass the ball,” Karim said, waving his hand at the field, his voice loud and high with laughter, which made Luka laugh harder. “Your crazy roommate needs you to keep him from getting into fights on the field every week.” 

Luka leaned into Karim, catching his breath, and put an arm around his back. Karim slung and arm over his shoulders, and Luka realized that he’d never hugged Karim outside of a goal celebration before. He patted Karim’s ribs and didn’t pull away, and thought how wrong it was that he’d never let himself touch Karim, who had been his most important teammate and his closest friend--though, for Luka, that wasn't saying much--for his first three years in college. 

“Being with all these kids makes you feel nostalgic, huh?” Luka said.

“It makes me feel old,” Karim laughed, squeezing Luka’s shoulder. 

“You two are old,” Sergio’s voice said from behind them. Karim and Luka turned, Karim’s hand sliding off Luka’s shoulder. Sergio smiled and greeted them both, slapping their hands. 

Sergio and Karim talked for a moment about some TV show Luka had never seen but that everyone on the team was really into. Luka subtly checked out Sergio, who was bundled up in a sweatshirt and thick leggings. His beard and hair were longer than they’d been since Luka had known him, and snowflakes caught in them and stayed, unmelted, sparkling in the blindingly bright sun. Luka shivered and tried not to look too starry eyed. 

“Hey,” Karim said, “I was meaning to ask you both to come out. Me and Rafa and some of the other guys are going to a bar tonight to drink water and pretend it’s beer.” 

“Yeah?” Sergio said, glancing at Luka. “That sounds fun. My old-man roommate here likes to go to bed by eight, but I’ll try to convince him.” Luka bit his lip and smiled and tilted his head back and forth, shrugging. 

Sergio didn’t actually need to convince Luka, though. Luka felt different, brave and young in a way he hadn’t in a long time. “Hey, I want to go tonight,” he told Sergio as they were walking back to their dorm.

“Yeah?” Sergio asked, raising his eyebrows and smiling a bit. “Sounds good to me.” 

Luka didn’t have many clothes that weren’t sweats or jerseys. He wore a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt with a few black stars printed near the collar. When he finished getting dressed he turned to see Sergio pulling on a baseball cap as he turned toward Luka. He had on tight, dark jeans and a dark red t-shirt that hugged his thin waist, and he just looked so good.

“Better not look at me like that when we’re in public or you’ll get me hard,” Sergio said. Luka rolled his eyes, and Sergio smiled and ran his eyes slowly up and down Luka’s body. He crossed the room, grabbed Luka’s wrist and used it to pull Luka into his chest. He put a hand on Luka’s ass and gave him a long, wet kiss. Luka got needy and hot againt him; leaned up into his kiss. 

“Okay,” Sergio said, pulling away then leaning back down to give Luka a few more quick pecks. “Let’s go.” 

Luka’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see his mom was calling. He glanced up at Sergio, feeling nervous for a reason he couldn’t figure out. “Go ahead,” Sergio said, nodding to his phone. Luka turned away from Sergio, like that would do anything. Sergio wouldn’t understand anything he said to his mom in Croatian anyway. 

“Hi mom."

“Hello Luka!” she sing-songed, her voice boxy as it came out of his phone’s speaker. “I’m just cooking dinner and thought I’d call to see what you were up to.”

“That sounds nice,” Luka said. “I’m about to go hang out with some of my teammates.”

“Really?” his mom said, excited and loud and so surprised it made Luka blush. “Honey that’s great! I’m so happy you’re making some good friends over there! Who is going? Your nice roommate?”

“Uh, yeah. Him and Karim and Rafa and some other guys.” Luka’s mom cooed some more about how great it was that he’d made friends, and Luka blushed harder. He glanced at Sergio, who was sitting on his desk chair looking at his phone. He looked up at Luka, like he could feel his eyes, and when he made eye contact he smiled and winked at him. 

Luka turned around so Sergio wouldn’t see him wince. _ Here, _ he thought, _ is the shame I’ve been waiting to feel. _ Without even really thinking about it, he’d been calling his mom only when Sergio wasn’t around. When he talked to his mom, he talked about home and his sisters and his dad and his mom’s cooking and he tried not to even think about Sergio. Now, it was like Sergio and Luka’s mom were in the same room for the first time, and Luka’s face felt hot. _ How can I talk to her when I’ve done something that would disgust her? _

And following on the heels of the shame that Luka had been expecting to feel since he’d first hooked up with Sergio was the unexpected, guilty realization of what his mom would think of Sergio._ If she knew he was gay, she would hate him. Even if I told her that he is open and honest confident and true to himself and giving and joyful and brave and everything she would love in a person. Even if I told her he was the best friend I’ve ever had. _

Luka had never really _ not _ felt wrong about being gay. He didn’t hate other people for being gay, and he didn’t think anyone should, but he had always accepted that he couldn’t be gay and still be loved by his family. Now, looking at Sergio, who Luka couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hating, Luka, for the first time, had the thought that his mom was _ wrong. _

“I have to go,” he told her abruptly. 

“Oh, of course, I don’t want to keep you from your friends. Have fun!” His mom said goodbye and told him she loved him, and Luka said it back and hung up, barely hearing himself. 

He turned to Sergio, who was watching him closely, his eyebrows pulled together. “How’s your family?” he asked. When Luka didn’t say anything, Sergio stood up and took a step closer. His voice was falsely cheery as he spoke next, fast and meant to distract Luka. “I love when you speak Croatian,” he said. “Do you miss speaking it a lot? I miss Spanish sometimes, but it’s not too bad because of Dani and Isco and Lucas. But no one here speaks Croatian, huh? Maybe you can teach me a little, and then you can talk to me.” 

The idea of talking to Sergio in Croatian wanted to make Luka feel warm and cozy, like he was wrapped up in a thick, soft quilt. But his thoughts about his mom were like a clanging in his head, and his hands shook as he tried to stop his world from feeling like it was spinning. 

"We're not _ dating _" he said, and then flinched at the way his voice sounded. He'd thought it would come out shaky and reedy like he felt, but instead it was harsh and abrupt. 

Sergio’s face hardened, and he said nothing for a long moment, looking at Luka like he was expecting him to say something more.

"I just mean, you don’t need to do that kind of stuff for me," Luka said. And then, more softly, “You get why we can’t, right?”

Sergio glared. "Yeah, Luka. I get you." He turned away to pull on a denim jacket, his arms angular and jerky in the sleeves. "Let's go."

For most of the mile-long walk to the bar, Sergio was quiet and tense beside Luka. Luka felt sick and cold, and his thoughts were moving so fast he could hear whirring in his ears. He thought about turning around and heading back to the dorm, about calling his mom back so he could hear her voice, sweet and loving, and _ know _that she wasn’t a villain. He thought about apologizing to Sergio, but even if his family wasn’t his family, there were other reasons he couldn’t take back what he’d said. Sergio, who played the same sport as Luka did, should know that better than anyone. 

A block away from the bar, Sergio stopped and turned to Luka. Luka frowned and faced him, shivering in his thick coat. 

“Okay, I don’t like this,” he motioned between him and Luka. “I want to say something and then we can go in and have fun, okay?” Luka nodded quickly. "Okay,” Sergio took a deep breath. “We're not dating; fine. I’ll take that because I like being with you, however you want it. But please don’t make me follow any other rules. I don’t want to pretend that I’m just messing around with you because it’s convenient, I don’t want to pretend I don’t like you. I want to make you happy, because you make _ me _feel as happy as I’ve ever been. I’ll take what you give me, and you take everything I give you, okay?"

Luka’s heart pounded. He couldn’t look away from Sergio’s face. Luka rolled his tongue over his teeth. He nodded at the same time he reached for Sergio, even though he could hear cars driving by, people talking. He stepped into Sergio and hugged him around the waist, pressing his face to Sergio’s neck tightly enough to hide the kiss he pressed there. He felt trembly and broken apart and then, as Sergio ran a hand down his back, suddenly still and warm and safe. He stepped away after a too long moment and looked up at Sergio, feeling watery and thankful, he hoped Sergio could see it. 

Sergio smiled sadly at him and then gripped Luka’s shoulder, shaking him and smiling wider. “Let’s go pretend to get drunk!” he said.

Luka sat in a round booth, pressed between Sergio and Karim. Lucas, Rafa, Dani, Carlos, and Isco were all crowded in, too, talking loudly and laughing and drinking soda. There were big plates of fried food in the middle of the table. Loud music was playing, and the bar was dark and dingy and smoky smelling. 

Luka felt relaxed and tense at once. His teammates were loose and happy, and he was eating salty, greasy food for the first time in months. Sergio’s thigh was pressed against his under the tabletop; his arm constantly brushing Luka’s, and occasionally he would turn and meet Luka’s eyes, his smile wide and bright, and squeeze Luka’s leg under the table.

They talked about the season so far, and their upcoming games, and about a few of their highlights from the last few years. 

“Luka, remember your red card?” Dani said, making everyone crack up.

“What?” Sergio asked. “_You _got a red card? Why?”

And so Luka told the story of the time the worst ref in their conference had given Luka a red card so stupid he'd been fired the next day, and Sergio laughed and looked at Luka with his shiny eyes, and Luka told him, "But that doesn't mean you can start picking up a bunch if reds. They can only fire so many refs." Sergio smiled and leaned into Luka, shoving him playfully with his shoulder. 

The conversation moved on from there. Luka listened halfway, occasionally scrolling through Instagram on his phone when he felt awkward or out of place. He tuned back in when the younger guys started guessing what Luka, Sergio, Karim, and Dani were going to do when they graduated. Luka leaned back in the booth and listened to them joke with each other, smiling and laughing along with them. 

“Luka and Karim will play for Barca,” Lucas said loudly, his smile happy and kind. 

“No,” Sergio said. “Real Madrid.” 

“Dani will be a pro-gamer,” Isco laughed, making Dani glare at him.

“Sergio will be, like, a mob enforcer,” Carlos said, laughing so hard and loud at his joke that everyone else, including Luka, laughed too.

“Not even close,” Sergio said happily. Luka glanced at him, interested by how sure his voice sounded. 

“No?” Karim said. “What do you want to do, then? Come to Real with me and Luka?” Sergio laughed and shook his head, but didn’t say anything. 

“Now this is suspicious,” Isco said. “Let me guess, you want to be a stripper.”

“I want to work in a professional team’s non-profit organization. In Spain there are a few new programs that support gay players, and I'd like to work in one of those.” Sergio said everything in a practiced, even voice. He raised his eyebrows after he was done, looking around the table through a beat of silence. Luka’s skin felt tight.

“That’s awesome, Sergio,” Lucas said. “I’d never even thought about any of that before.” 

Luka swallowed and made himself look at Sergio. Sergio turned his toward him immediately, his eyes brave and pretty and maybe a little nervous. “That’s really great,” he said, trying to put all the respect and pride he felt for Sergio in his voice. 

Sergio smiled at him, small and happy, as the conversation around them moved on. He patted Luka’s arm and then shifted away and stood, leaving Luka’s side cold. 

Luka looked at Sergio with wide eyes and before he could stop himself he was asking him, “Are you leaving?”

“No,” Sergio said, like it’s a normal thing for Luka to ask. “I’m just going to get a refill.” He held up his empty cup. “You want one, Luka?”

What Luka wanted was to go back to their dorm and show Sergio how much he appreciated not just his body and his muscles, but his mind and his soul. “I’m good,” he said, and then watched Sergio out of the corner of his eye as he walked towards the bar. Sergio’s stride was confident and loose, his ass was round and perfect in his jeans, his hat and denim jacket made him look cool and hot. Luka couldn’t help but feel proud of Sergio, who was so strong and comfortable in his skin and so brave that he'd proudly said what he’d just said to their teammates. 

Sergio leaned on the bar and gave his glass to the bartender. While he waited for his refill, a short, slight blonde guy came up and leaned on the bar right next to Sergio, facing him and grinning up at him. 

Sergio looked over at the guy and said something, Luka could see his lips moving, and the blonde guy laughed and ran his fingers over Sergio’s bicep. Luka rolled his tongue over his teeth. He pushed his hair behind his ears and turned toward the rest of the guys at the table. When he glanced back at Sergio a moment later, the guy was still standing next to him, talking animatedly, and Sergio had his drink in one hand and his phone in the other. 

_ What if he’s getting that guy’s number? What if he goes home with him instead of you? _

Well, if he did, Luka told himself, that was fine. He’d told Sergio barely two hours ago that they weren’t dating, and it was true. 

Luka’s phone vibrated on the table and he flipped it over to see a text from Sergio. It was the third message in their chat, all of them from Sergio, unanswered by Luka. The first one read, “Hey, it’s Sergio.” The second said, “How’s class? Let’s watch a game tonight.” The one he just sent read, “Do you want to go back to the dorm?”

Luka looked back to Sergio to see him looking hotly at Luka, ignoring the guy still standing next to him. Luka swallowed, and nodded slightly. Sergio gave Luka a wolfy smile and quickly walked to the table. 

“Hey,” he said to the table. “I have a paper due tomorrow, so I should go. Karim, thanks so much for asking me out.”

“I should go, too,” Luka said, and got up to stand next to Sergio. “And yeah, thanks Karim. This was great."

The guys said goodbye to them both, giving them wide, toothy, crinkly smiles, and Luka thought that they’d done a great job getting drunk on nothing but soda and each other’s company. 

He and Sergio left and walked briskly back to their dorm. Luka bit his lip to hide a smile. Sergio had ignored the cute guy at the bar, and now he was practically jogging alongside Luka as they rushed back to their room, and Luka had no question what they both wanted to do when they got there.

Sergio was on him as soon as the door to their dorm closed. “I wanted to dance with you tonight,” Sergio said in Luka’s ear, coming up behind him and resting his hands on his hips. 

“I can’t dance,” Luka said.

“You could,” Sergio said. “You’re graceful. Come on, move your hips.” He pulled at Luka’s hips, trying to get him to sway them.

“My body doesn’t move that way,” Luka told him flatly.

“Mmm,” Sergio hummed noncommittally in his ear. He trailed a hand to Luka’s abs and pulled him back, so his ass was tucked against Sergio’s hips. “You’ve moved your hips pretty well for me before.”

Luka relaxed back against him a fraction, softening in his arms and pushing his ass into him a bit. “Good boy,” Sergio breathed. They swayed against each other for a minute, the room totally quiet except for the whir of the heater and their soft breaths. “You looked so good tonight,” Sergio said roughly into Luka’s ear. “This guy at the bar hit on me and I so wanted to be like, ‘no, I’m with that hot little midfielder over there.’”

Luka wanted nothing more than to push closer to Sergio’s warmth and sweetness and his fortifying words. He wanted to tell Sergio, _ “so you should have said that.” _ And that was a stupid, impossible, dangerous thing to want. So he made himself pull away and turn to Sergio and tell him, “We’re not _ with _each other, though. You can hook up with other people if you want.”

Sergio actually flinched at Luka’s words. “What the fuck?” He looked disgusted. “Okay we’re not dating, but I am _ with _you, and I’m not going to fuck with someone else when we’re...hooking up, or whatever.”

“I’m not asking you to just be with me,” Luka told Sergio honestly, even though it made his chest tighten to think of Sergio being with someone else. 

Sergio’s face got furious. “I don’t care,” he said, loud and angry, throwing his arms out to the sides like he was showing Luka something obvious. “I’m fucking giving it to you! I don’t _ want _ to be with someone else. Why would I want to sleep with someone else when _ you’re _ here and you’re perfect?”

Sergio was too much. Luka ran his hands through his hair. "We're not even having actual sex,” he pointed out. “Don’t you want someone who will let you fuck them?" _ Why are you trying to make him say something you don't want to hear? _

"No, I don't. Oral with you is literally better than any sex I've ever had before. I don’t care if you never want to do anal.” Luka scoffed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t think there was a person in the world who wouldn’t want to sleep with Sergio, and he wanted Luka to think that _ he _ was Sergio’s first choice? Sergio threw his hands up and looked exasperated. “Luka, have I made you feel like I don’t fucking love being with you? Like I don’t think you’re the hottest guy I’ve ever seen? If I have then I’m sorry, but you read me wrong. I _ do _ love being with you, and you _ are _the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.” 

Luka just looked at him, feeling amazed and lucky and grateful. Sergio ran his hands through his hair, yanked at the ends, and then just watched Luka’s face for a long time, his hands resting on his head and his eyes like he was trying to figure out a problem. He took a long breath, and when he spoke again his voice was low and rough. “Look, you can hook up with other people if you want--" he paused and scraped his teeth quickly over his tongue after that, like he wanted to clear the words from his mouth-- “but I just want to hook up with you.”

Then he stepped closer and grabbed Luka’s jaw and pressed his mouth, hard and intense, to Luka’s. Luka felt his kiss deep inside of him. He’d never kissed anyone but Sergio, but he _ knew _that there was no way Sergio could have kissed the random guy from the bar this way; like he was touching every raw nerve in Luka's body and still not hurting him, like Sergio wanted to be so close to him he couldn't breathe

They pulled their own clothes off, stumbling out of their jeans, and climbed into Sergio’s bed. Luka laid his head on Sergio’s soft pillow and Sergio hovered above him, just looking, so Luka looked, too. He took in Sergio’s muscles and tattoos and his smooth bronze skin, and his soft smile and his gentle hands which had brought Luka more pleasure than he ever thought possible.

“Luka,” Sergio breathed, and then bent down to kiss Luka’s collarbone. He sucked the skin there for a moment, then started kissing his way down Luka’s chest, his mouth hot and soft on his nipples, his stomach, his hip. “Hey, stop,” Luka told him, hooking his fingers under his chin and curling his other hand into his hair. Sergio tilted his head to look at him but didn’t move, settling his elbows between Luka’s thighs. 

Sergio had tried to do this a few times. He would kiss down Luka’s abs or try to pull Luka’s hips up toward his face, but Luka always pushed him away and tried to distract him by sucking _ his _dick instead. Maybe it was stupid, when Sergio had done more for him than he’d ever imagined, had licked cum off his abs, but his cock in Sergio’s mouth seemed like something too good for Luka to have; like asking too much of Sergio. 

“_Please, _ Luka.” Luka was shaking his head before Sergio even finished, and Sergio frowned, his voice going from gently pleading to edgy. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve had fucking _ dreams _ about you coming in my mouth.” Luka’s hand trembled in Sergio’s hair, his fingers slid over the rough beard covering his chin, which he couldn’t help but imagine scraping along his thighs. "Luka," Sergio said, his voice low and even, his breath brushing over the head of Luka's cock. 

Luka was taken apart; so turned on and needy that he couldn’t do anything but give in, releasing Sergio’s chin, and Sergio smiled slightly, his eyes dark and soft, and tipped his head down. He kissed Luka’s belly button, traced his tongue down Luka’s hip, and then slipped the head of Luka’s cock between his full lips. 

It was bad. Sergio didn’t suck Luka’s cock the way Luka did his--slutty and desperate--or like someone who was sucking dick because they felt obligated. He held Luka’s cock in his mouth gently, running his tongue over it, slow and sweet, and spent a long, long time working on taking Luka as deep as he could. And when he pushed himself too far and choked and had to back up, breathing hard, he’d rub his cheek along Luka’s cock, kiss and lick at the tip, his tongue pressing into the slit and licking up Luka’s precum and his lips nibbling at the head.

He gave Luka the kind of blow job you couldn’t make excuses for. It wasn’t convenient or easy or careless or simple. It made Luka feel so hot he couldn’t even think. Luka hated it, and at the end, after he’d spent like what felt like hours inside Sergio’s mouth, he came so hard he couldn’t talk; couldn’t see; couldn’t do anything but feel his toes tense, his legs shake, his back arch, and Sergio’s lips tight around him, Sergio’s mouth sucking down his cum, swallowing everything. 

When Luka could finally focus, he turned his head to see Sergio lying on his back next to him, looking at the ceiling, his eyes sharp and wide, his mouth red and wet. Luka rolled to his side and pressed his lips to Sergio’s jaw, reaching for Sergio’s cock. Sergio turned his head, pressing his lips to Luka’s forehead, at the same time that Luka’s hand curled around Sergio’s cock, which he found was soft between his legs. 

Luka jerked away from Sergio’s body, nausea rolling in his stomach.


	11. Chapter 11

Sergio hummed around Luka’s cock. Having his shy little Croatian come apart under his mouth, twitching and gasping and squirming, was the sweetest, hottest thing he’d ever experienced. He rubbed his own cock against his sheets as he sucked Luka, and he knew he was going to come like that; quick and dirty and in a way that would be a bit unsatisfying if it weren’t for the fact that he had _ Luka _there, under him and in his mouth. 

Luka had given him ten blow jobs before he even let Sergio touch his dick, and now Sergio wanted to pay him back for all of them. He wanted to show Luka’s shapely, perfectly sized cock how much he liked it. He licked it and sucked it and tried to deep throat it, and the whole time he thrust against his bed, rough and fast and so turned on his cock was throbbing, and then he came, hollowing his cheeks out around Luka’s dick, sucking hard and loud and sloppy, Luka’s cock filling his mouth and his attention so much that his own orgasm was background noise. 

He took Luka’s cock deeper into his throat as he soaked his sheets in cum for not even close to the first time since he and Luka had gotten together. He swallowed around Luka until his nose was pressed up against Luka’s body. Luka’s sweet, heady smell in his nose, his cute little whines in his ears, and then, as Luka twitched hard under him, Luka’s cum in his throat, hot and salty. 

He licked Luka’s cock clean, kissed his way up and then down it, and then placed one last peck on the tip, giving it a look that he hoped it understood as, _ I’ll be back soon, buddy, _before he heaved himself up to lie next to Luka. Luka’s hair was messy, his cheeks and chest were flushed, and his eyes were closed as he breathed out long and slow. Sergio thought maybe he was dozing off, so he laid still next to him, looking at the blank white ceiling above his bed and trying and failing not to get too in his head. 

Having sex with Luka was a transcendant experience. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Luka that even the fairly simple things they’d done together had been hotter than anything he’d ever done before. And it wasn’t a mystery why: Luka sucked cock like a fucking expert; he was eager and sexy and submissive and sweet; and also, Sergio was in love with him.

Sergio had always been quick to fall in love. He’d been halfway there with Luka before they’d even hooked up. And even though he’d been quick to find things to love about guys he’d been with before, he’d never in his life felt the way he did with Luka. He liked every single part of his body and mind. Luka was thoughtful and focused and kind. He was the perfect size for Sergio to curl up around, his skin and his hair were the two softest things Sergio had ever felt, and the way he let Sergio lead him in bed made Sergio’s cock and heart ache equally. Luka fit perfectly with him, made him better in every way he wanted to be better, and seemed to need parts of Sergio that Sergio had never known how to use before. 

Sergio was smart, but he'd never really needed to be, because no one cared much about your grades when you were playing good football. But the way Luka looked at him when Sergio helped him with some math problem or one of his papers made Sergio feel like a being good at homework was the best skill in the world. He wanted to read all of Luka's textbooks so he would be able to answer any question Luka had about class. He wanted to sit for hours while Luka thought just so that he could hear what he eventually said, and normally he hated being quiet and waiting for someone to talk. He wanted to watch Luka train and play every day. He wanted to give Luka a million assists and to score off every beautiful ball he put into the box. He wanted to always be around to laugh at Luka's weird jokes. 

Luka shifted beside him, rolling over and reaching toward him. Sergio wrapped an arm around Luka’s neck instinctually and turned to kiss Luka’s forehead, still halfway distracted by his deep thoughts. Then Luka’s hand brushed Sergio’s cock where it rested soft and sated between his legs, and Sergio smiled, thinking, _ my eager Lukita, _and started to reach for Luka’s hip to pull him close and start another round with him. 

Luka rolled to sit up on the edge of the bed so fast Sergio’s hand slapped the bed where it had been grabbing for Luka. Luka’s spine was a curved, bumpy line as he hunched over, his arms hugged around his waist, the muscles of his shoulders tense and high. 

“What’s wrong?” Sergio asked urgently, confused and startled. He rolled to his knees and crawled to sit by Luka, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, hesitating a little, scared that Luka would flinch away. He didn’t, but he didn’t lean into Sergio’s touch like he often did. He kept his body stiff and tense. “Luka, what?” Sergio asked, more insistent now.

Luka’s muscles were so tight they trembled under Sergio’s palm, so he slid his hand slowly all over Luka’s back, rubbing with his palm and scratching gently with his blunt nails. “I’m sorry,” Luka said, his voice like a weak gasp. “We don’t have to do that ever again. I know you want to do nice things for me, but please, I don’t want to do stuff that you don’t like.” 

Sergio dropped his mouth open for a moment. How could Luka think he hadn’t _ loved _what they’d just done? “You think I didn’t come?” he asked, trying to follow Luka’s train of thought. Luka nodded, turning his face away. Sergio scowled and grabbed the back of Luka’s neck, turning his head to make him look at the wet spot on the sheets. “Luka,” he said, his voice low and growly, “I will happily suck your dick and come on my sheets every day until you stop being such an idiot.” Luka struggled against his grip for a minute, but he could feel the moment Luka saw his cum, realized what had happened. He stilled, and then relaxed, heaving out a loud breath. 

“Oh,” he said, and then his eyes got so soft and shiny Sergio thought he might cry. 

“Baby,” Sergio said, running his hand up Luka’s spine, his voice sad and gentle. Luka turned and wrapped himself around Sergio, pulling himself into Sergio’s lap and tucking his head against his shoulder. Sergio wrapped his arms around Luka’s back, yanking him even closer, and frowned into his hair. 

He’d tried to show Luka how precious he was with every touch and word he’d given him since they’d met, and still Luka thought Sergio might want someone else, that he might not be enough for Sergio, that Sergio might be sucking his dick just because he thought he owed him. Still, he told Sergio that they weren’t dating, which meant, Sergio guessed, that they were what he’d heard the American guys call _ fuck buddies, _ two words that seemed so wrong and _ not _him and Luka that it turned his stomach. 

Sergio had been in love before, and so he had enough experience to know that the way he felt about Luka wasn’t casual or easy or normal. Luka wasn’t someone he'd distantly remember being really into in college. He knew people would say he was young and that it was too soon, but Sergio knew_ \-- _ and he didn’t give a fuck about what enyone else said--he _ knew _ that Luka was the love of his life, the one person on earth who was perfect for him. 

He could be that person for Luka, too. He wanted to be--to make Luka never feel shy or ashamed of any part of himself, to teach him to fuck Sergio's throat and not feel bad about it. He wanted go with Luka when he got a big contract with a club, to wear a kit with Luka's name on it and cheer for Luka from the stands of some huge stadium and then to cook for him when he got home from a game. To rub his sore muscles and kiss the tops of his beautiful, talented feet.

Luka, Sergio knew, was not someone who could fall in love quickly. He was so guarded and closed off it sometimes hurt Sergio’s feelings. But Sergio would not give up a single part of Luka. He would be patient. His family would laugh so hard they couldn’t breathe at that sentence, but Sergio could be patient for Luka. He would love him and hold him and help him, and eventually, Luka would trust him enough that he would stop worrying and just love Sergio back. 

***

Luka and Sergio were sending short passes back and forth to each other in warm up, an exercise that did nothing but give them and excuse to stand near each other. It was cloudy and freezing cold and Luka and Sergio were talking about missing the weather back in their home countries and how shitty Minnesota winters were. 

"It's too cold," Luka whined. "The season should start in June and end in September so we don't have to play in this." 

"This is great experience for when you get a contract in the Russian league," Sergio told him.

Lika scoffed. "I'd rather play in fucking _ Australia _," he said with so much disgust in his voice that Sergio doubled over in laughter.

When he straightened up Luka was smiling fondly at him as Karim came up behind Luka. Karim gave Luka a quick side-hug, then patted him on the shoulder. "Vamos! " he said, smiling at Setgio before he wandered away. 

Luka’s eyes followed Karim for a half a second, and Sergio grinned, feeling a little jealous but mostly just happy that Luka seemed slightly less repressed than he had a few months ago. 

He waited for Karim to make his way across the pitch, then told Luka, “I’m lucky Karim is straight or he would have snapped you up years ago.”

Luka’s eyes flew to Sergio’s wide and fast and shocked. He glanced around them nervously, looking as panicked as Sergio would expect him to if Sergio had got on his knees to suck Luka’s dick in the middle of a goal celebration. 

“Hey, no one heard,” Sergio said, trying to sound reassuring. Luka finished looking at the other players on the field, none of whom stood anywhere near them. 

Luka’s eyes came back to Sergio, looking firey in the same way they did when Luka really wanted to win a match, and Sergio’s dick twitched in his pants. He expected Luka to scold him for saying anything about either of them not being straight in public, but instead he said, "You think Karim is hot?" Sergio blinked and Luka squinted his eyes closed and blushed, biting his lip and shaking his head.

Sergio couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread over his face if he tried. “He’s not my type, but yeah, of course,” he said. Luka opened his eyes and looked curiously at Sergio. “_ You _ think he’s hot," he told Luka. 

Luka bit his lip. "Well." He chewed his tongue. "Yeah."

“Yeah, and he _ is _your type, right? So I’m lucky he’s straight.” 

Luka said nothing for a minute. They passed the ball back and forth, and Luka watched it, looking like he was thinking hard. Finally, he glanced up at Sergio, grimacing, and asked, “Who is your type?”

Sergio tilted his head. “You,” he said, and Luka rolled his eyes. But Sergio honestly had to think about it to find an answer other than that. He felt like how he imagined people felt after they’d been married for a long time. Like, maybe before they met their partner they had a different type, but now it was really just one person. “I guess a few of the guys I’ve dated before have looked kind of like Isco, or maybe Dani,” he said after a moment. "They’re both kind of like you, though. Small, muscly, football players. Your hair is prettier, though, and they don’t have your nose.” 

Luka cupped a hand around his nose and frowned. “My _ nose _?” he asked skeptically.

“Fuck yes, I _love_ your nose,” Sergio said. “It’s so cute. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” 

Luka gaped at him for a second, and then Zidane yelled across the field for everyone to get into the locker room for the last few minutes before the match started. Sergio picked up the ball he and Luka had been using and smiled at Luka at he started to walk towards the sideline. Luka just started at Sergio and followed him, and then, when they were just a few feet away from Nacho and Isco, he put a hand on Sergio’s arm and looked up at him with big eyes and told him, so quiet Sergio barely heard it, “I think you have really pretty eyes.”

Sergio sat the game out. He’d played a lot over the season and was scheduled for some rest. He would play every game if he could, but he wasn’t too hurt about rotating as he was feeling a little slow and sore. Also, sitting on the bench gave him a chance to just watch Luka. 

They were playing against a team at the bottom of the table with a terrible defense and an almost nonexistent midfield, but still, Luka made everything he did look breathtaking and impossibly difficult. He sent long passes across the field or straight into the box, setting up two goals before half time. He talked to everyone on the team, pointing to where he wanted them to go, and everyone listened to him. Just before the half, he got the ball and dribbled around two players in the center circle, then just paused with the ball at his feet and looked forward. It was like everyone else on the field slowed down while Luka looked out at his kingdom, the field in front of him, and then he hit a long ball down the wing for Dani to run onto, like he was telling him, _ here’s where you need to go. _Dani crossed into the box, and Crown scored their third, and Sergio felt proud and happy and so fucking turned on. 

Two days ago when he’d last talked to his family on the phone, Sergio had told his dad that he was with Luka, and then he’d told him a long list of things he knew his dad would like about Luka. How he bossed around other guys on the pitch, the way he took in football matches like a fucking tactician, the way he made his beautiful outside of the boot passes look easy, and how he was so calm and steady even during the roughest matches. 

“Good,” his dad had said in his loud, cheerful voice. “You need someone to cool you down.” Sergio had laughed but agreed. Before he’d come to Crown and met Luka, Sergio _ had _ been wild--getting into fights, feeling edgy all the time, hooking up with guys who didn’t give a shit about him beyond his abs. And even though Luka told him they weren’t dating, he knew--he was _ sure-- _that Luka cared about him. He listened to Sergio more than anyone he’d ever met, which was a feat, because Sergio talked all the time and only sometimes said interesting things. He gave Sergio assists even when there were other guys open. He tried to make Sergio be a better footballer, even though they had slightly different ideas of what that meant. He worshiped Sergio’s body and made Sergio feel like a god. 

Going into half time, Sergio wished that he had a chance to pull Luka into a corner or a closet somewhere so he could worship him a bit, but he had to settle for staring at Luka in the locker room until Luka blushed and couldn’t look in his direction anymore.

Karim won a penalty in the second half and Luka, who took penalties as the captain and the best player on the team, picked up the ball. 

He walked up to the spot like he was facing a firing squad and stood facing the goalkeeper, his eyes darting around and his teeth running over his lip. He took a few steps back, took a slow run up, and then hit the ball hard and fast. Sergio held his breath as it went toward the right crossbar and then hit it, bouncing sideways and just barely making it over the line.

Luka had done almost the exact same thing the last time two times he’d taken a penalty. If Sergio didn’t see how nervous Luka always looked waiting for the ball to ricochet in, he’d think it was a strategy: hit the ball as far to one side as possible so that even if the goalie dove the right way he would have little chance of saving it. As it was, he saw Luka’s penalties for what they were: near misses. 

Crown won 4-0, so even if Luka had missed the penalty it wouldn’t have mattered. But Sergio could tell Luka felt shaken up by it for a few minutes afterwards as he misplaced a couple easy passes. He knew Luka felt like he should take the penalties as captain, and he had made three out of three so far this season, but Sergio knew he was better at penalties than Luka was, and that they wouldn’t make him as nervous as they did Luka. 

So as they walked home from the match, he offered, casually, to take them instead. They’d left the locker room together, like usual. Luka was wearing his big puffy coat, but his hair was wet from his shower and he didn’t have a hat. He was walking so fast that Sergio was a pace behind him when he spoke.

“Hey, I used to take penalties on my old team, you know. I made nine out of ten last season.” Luka hummed and said nothing. “I could take them here if you want. I’m vice captain so it wouldn’t be that weird, and I know--”

“No,” Luka said, not looking back at Sergio. 

Sergio sped up to walk next to him. Luka was looking forward at their dorm, which they could see at the end of the block. He looked distracted, like he was only half listening to Sergio. “Well, Luka, look--”

“I haven’t missed any this season so I don’t know what the problem is.”

“You’ve _almost _missed all of them!” Sergio said, raising his voice a little, annoyed at Luka’s stubbornness and at being cut off twice in a row. Being interrupted was one of Sergio’s least favorite things, and it was something he didn’t think Luka, who always took his time responding to whatever Sergio said, had ever done to him before. Luka’s mouth tightened as Sergio snapped at him, but he kept his eyes forward and didn’t say anything. “And I can tell you hate taking them, Luka,” Sergio said, making his voice a little softer. “There’s no reason for you to do something that makes you so uncomfortable. I’m sure Karim would take them too, if you wanted.”

“I have a responsibility to the team,” Luka said, just sounding tired now. “I need them to trust that I can take care of things for them,” he explained to Sergio, his voice patient, but his words made Sergio furious. 

Sergio threw his hands up. “But you can’t trust _ me _ to take care of this for _ you _?”

They’d reached the front of their dorm and Luka scanned his key card and pulled the glass door open, holding it for Sergio and frowning at him as he walked in. Sergio seethed as he led Luka to their room, feeling Luka’s eyes on his back. He unlocked their room door and shut it behind Luka as soon as he stepped in, then turned to him and waited. 

Luka dropped his things to the floor by his dresser and took his coat off, revealing the thin white t-shirt he wore underneath. He turned to Sergio, still frowning. “I don’t understand why we’re fighting right now,” he said quietly.

_ Because I love you and you don’t even trust me with this one small thing. _Sergio sighed. “You want to hook up?” he asked. Luka blushed and seemed surprised at Sergio's abrupt topic change, but then gave him a tiny nod, biting his lip. “Okay," Sergio said, "tell me what want me to do.”

When he thought about it later, Sergio would feel bad for pushing Luka. He would remind himself that Luka had been pushing himself out of his comfort zone the whole time they'd been together, that even just kissing Sergio sometimes made Luka look so vulnerable it seemed to hurt. When he had a clear head, he would remember that. But in the moment, he just fucking needed something from Luka. 

The more time Serio spent with Luka, who showed barely any emotion and hated talking about his feelings or about sex, the more Sergio felt like a raw nerve. He was letting his feelings for Luka go unchecked and trusting that Luka would eventually want them to be together the way Sergio craved, with no secrets or fears or walls between them. But Luka's lack of trust had made Sergio think maybe Luka wasn't as close to that as he'd hoped. Sergio felt needy and in love and hurt, and he couldn't keep himself from pushing Luka to give him a little more of himself.

Luka grimaced at Sergio’s question. “Whatever you want,” he said. And then, when Sergio just stared at him and waited, “I like when you choose for us.” That _ us _was like a bandage on Sergio’s wounds, but it wasn’t what he’d asked for. 

“Tell me exactly what you want me to do for you, Luka,” he said slowly. “I promise you can trust me with this.” 

Luka bit his lip and looked up at Sergio with pretty, unsure eyes. He rolled his tongue between his teeth and pushed his hair behind his ears. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe...you could finger me?"

For a half a second Sergio thought about how it was kind of a weird way to say it, and then he thought about how fucking _ good _ Luka was. Sergio had wanted him to make himself vulnerable, and _ fuck _had he. 

Then he thought of sinking into Luka, imagined Luka doing this to himself when he was alone, and he crossed the room and pulled Luka into him so quick Luka yelped. He ground his suddenly hard cock against Luka’s hip and Luka bit his lip and put his hands on Sergio’s shoulders. 

He kissed Luka, hard and quick, and then pulled away before he got too carried away. “Undress,” he said, and both of them did. Luka crawled onto Sergio’s bed without being asked and then sat there, fidgeting with his fingers, while Sergio got his lube out of his dresser. He dropped it on the bed by the pillow and then took a long minute to just look at Luka. Curling hair and wide open eyes and big nose, tiny pink nipples and hard, muscled waist and the sweetest cock hard and curved above his lap.

Then he climbed on top of Luka and kissed him all over, on his soft mouth and his smooth neck and his hard chest, and the whole time he whispered in Spanish without even thinking about it, telling Luka he was beautiful and perfect and swearing about how hot he was, and then, before he could stop it, saying, “te amo,” against the skin of Luka’s stomach. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a crazy long chapter to make up for so long without an update! I hope you guys like it!

Luka’s lips curved against Sergio’s in a smile he couldn’t hold back. He was nervous, and a little embarrassed, but mostly he was turned on and happy and loving the way every ounce of Sergio’s weight was pressing into him; the way the hard muscles of Sergio’s body felt against his skin. 

They made out for a long time, hands in each others hair and tongues pressing into each other. Luka finally had to pull back to gasp in a long breath, and Sergio moved his mouth down to Luka’s neck, and then his chest. He said a couple familiar words in Spanish, which Luka recognized as curses because he’d heard Sergio say them during training before, and then he started mumbling other words that Luka didn't know.

Luka hummed, enjoying Sergio’s pretty lilting voice and his soft lips, and mumbled a few words back in Croatian. Nothing meaningful, just little pet names he would never think of calling Sergio if he could understand them. 

Eventually, Sergio pulled back and looked up at Luka and asked, in low, accented English, “Do you want to turn over?” 

Luka looked at Sergio, wide eyed and nervous, and nodded. 

Sergio helped him roll over onto his stomach, then moved to kneel between Luka’s thighs. He ran his hands all over Luka’s body, kneading into his shoulders, the outsides of his thighs, the flesh of his ass. 

Luka squirmed under Sergio’s hands. Being naked, having Sergio touch him like this was--it made Luka feel exposed and nervous and so, so hot he could barely think. Sergio’s fingers slid across the back of Luka’s thigh, slow and so soft it tickled. He squeezed the flesh of Luka’s ass in his palm once, and then his fingers dipped between Luka’s cheeks and brushed his hole.

Luka flinched so hard his teeth knocked together. “Woah,” Sergio said, his voice surprised. 

Luka felt Sergio start to pull back, felt his touch just barely lighten, and he wanted to sob in relief and regret at the same time.

Then Sergio paused, and then his other hand dropped lightly to the small of Luka’s back. Just barely any pressure, but warmth and skin on skin and a slow stroke of his thumb. Luka heaved out a sigh and felt a few of his muscles unlock.

“You’re okay,” Sergio said, his voice low and reassuring. “Right?” he asked. 

Luka didn’t know how to respond. He felt so hot it was like he had a fever, and every inch of his skin seemed more sensitive than it had ever been before. 

“Luka,” Sergio said after barely half a second, his voice low and soft and, Luka was surprised to realize, nervous, “we don’t have to do this. If you don’t want it, I promise I don’t need it.” 

Luka almost wished he could tell himself he’d asked Sergio to finger him because he knew it was what Sergio wanted, or because Sergio had pushed him into it. But there was no way to trick himself about this; not when Luka had bitten his lip the night before to stop from asking for the same thing. Luka had dreamed about having Sergio’s fingers inside of him months ago, before they’d even been friends. Three nights ago, he’d dreamed about it again, and hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. He wanted it, and wanted with Sergio, so bad he felt empty without it. 

Luka knew he shouldn’t keep making concessions like he had been since he met Sergio--let himself sit against Sergio while they watched football, let himself suck Sergio off, let Sergio suck him off, let Sergio inside of him. Eventually he had to get some control over himself and the thing with Sergio, or he was going to hurt them both and fuck up the rest of his life. But right now, he was just a college football player, no one was watching him, and his parents were a thousand miles away. 

Sergio shifted, the heat of his skin just a bit further away from Luka’s, and then his fingers pulled away from Luka’s rim and he brought his hands to Luka’s hips and tugged. “Roll over,” he said, his voice so sweet and gentle it made Luka’s chest physically hurt. 

Luka held himself where he was, and breathed in the pillow under his face that smelled like Sergio, and got ready to talk. Sergio made an unhappy sound behind him. For as long as he’d known him, Sergio had always given Luka long moments to decide what he wanted to say, but now he couldn’t seem to stop talking, barely pausing between his sentences. “Let me just blow you, okay?” he said, patting Luka’s hip. “Or, look, we don’t have to do anything.” He rubbed his hand up and down Luka's side., “Luka, I--” he started, his voice a little wobbly and--worried, Luka realized. 

He tugged Luka’s hips again, and this time Luka moved, but not to roll over. 

Luka did the same thing he did before taking a free kick, because football was the only thing in the world he was good at, but maybe it could held him be decent at something else: he concentrated, and breathed, and worried, and then just did what his body was telling him to do. 

He got up on his knees and elbows and arched his hips up. 

He looked over his shoulder to meet Sergio’s eyes and told him, “I want it,” and he was glad he waited so long to say it because his voice came out sure and steady, and he felt the same way. Sergio held his eyes for a moment, his gaze searching, and then he smiled just slightly and dropped his head to kiss Luka’s spine. 

“Fuck,” Sergio breathed against him, and Luka shivered in pleasure. Sergio’s mouth moved to the small of Luka’s back, open and wet. “You’re so good,” Sergio said against his skin. “I’m gonna make it so nice for you.” 

Sergio hadn’t even really been moving fast before, but now he slowed way, _ way _ down. He kissed Luka’s back and the upper curves of his ass and brought his hand underneath Luka to cup his palm around the head of Luka’s dick, which was hard and wet despite everything. And then he didn’t do anything else for what felt like forever. He licked Luka’s back and tightened and loosened his hand around the head of Luka’s dick with no rhythm, and just _ kept _ doing that, until Luka went from waiting for the next step, quiet and still, to whining and jerking his hips to try and get friction and biting into the pillow under his face just to try and get _ something _inside of him. Sergio let him do that so long that he felt humiliated and slutty, and then kept letting him do it until he felt shameless. 

“Please,” he begged Sergio then, and finally, _ finally, _Sergio moved. He pulled his mouth off Luka’s back and slid his hand slowly down his dick and over his balls, and just that was almost enough to make Luka come, was enough to leave him shaking and to make his dick feel so hot it was like all the blood in his body was inside of it. 

Then he moved his hand further back and lightened the pressure of his touch until it was almost nothing. He pressed his middle three fingers to the place behind Luka’s balls, and then trailed them up the crack of Luka’s ass, making Luka's skin tingle. 

“Sergio,” Luka panted.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Sergio assured him. He shifted away for a second, and Luka looked back at him to see him grabbing a pillow and putting it under Luka’s hips. Then he pushed Luka down so he was lying on his front, his cock resting on the silky, cool pillow. He slid his hands up Luka’s thighs, his palms rough on the sensitive skin there, and then pushed Luka’s legs up and out, until he was spread out obscenely underneath Sergio. Then, _ finally, _he brought a finger, slick with warm lube, to Luka’s rim. He just massaged Luka’s rim for long minutes, rubbing in the lube and putting just barely any pressure on Luka’s hole. Luka felt boneless. He couldn’t thrust his hips or moan Sergio’s name or beg Sergio to get inside of him; couldn’t do anything but feel Sergio’s fingers on skin that no one had ever touched before and think yes and yes and yes. 

When Sergio’s finger finally slid inside of him, it wasn’t painful or embarrassing or even particularly pleasurable. It was just _ right, _more than maybe anything Luka had ever felt. 

_ This, _ Luka made himself think, _ is not what I’m not supposed to want. _ To have another man inside of him, above him, just _ with _him. To feel small and needy and hot under a man’s hands and mouth and body.

But there was _ no way _, Luka realized a second later, that he could feel ashamed of this. No way that this could be wrong, when it made Luka feel loved and safe and not alone, when all the people who’d told him that it was wrong had made him feel the opposite. 

Sergio dropped a kiss to the cheek of Luka’s ass. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice so rough and low it gave Luka goosebumps. 

Luka’s whole body, including his tongue and his brain, felt heavy and loose. So, considering, he was lucky he didn’t say anything stupider than he did when he slurred, “I want you inside of me all the time.” 

Sergio groaned loud behind him, and brought a hand to grip Luka’s hip tightly. “Fuck, _ yes, _” he agreed. 

And then he started moving. He tried a few different things--thrusting and twisting and rubbing--and seemed to learn what Luka liked quicker than Luka did. When he figured it out, he stopped torturing Luka with slowness and teasing and started torturing him by making him feel so good it hurt. He curled his finger inside of Luka, found a spot that made Luka’s eyes fall closed in pleasure, and then just rubbed it, over and over and over again, his finger moving so fast and precise that Luka couldn’t stop himself from huffing out, “holy shit,” “Sergio, Sergio,” “so good, fuck, thank you.” 

Luka’s balls were sore and tight, his dick was leaking constantly against the pillow Sergio had put under him, the head so hot and swollen and sensitive the silky pillowcase was sending spasms of pleasure through Luka’s body, and inside of him, Sergio’s finger was making his mind roll over with pleasure. Luka wanted to come, obviously, but he also already felt like he was coming, like he had been for long minutes. He couldn’t do anything but flex his hips back and forth just slightly and suck in shallow breaths and wait and feel.

Sergio’s finger pulled off Luka’s prostate for a second, and then another one teased at his rim and slid into him alongside the first, and then they both pressed down hard and firm and didn’t let up, and Luka came, choking out Sergio’s name and and totally losing his ability to think. 

Luka wanted to just close his eyes and relive every second of the last hour, but he also wanted to help Sergio come; wanted to look Sergio in the eye and feel that he was there with Luka. 

He pulled himself together as quickly as he could, which admittedly probably wasn’t that quick, and pushed himself onto his back with a half-limp arm, trying and failing to move his leg around Sergio’s hips. Sergio chuckled, sounding just a bit on edge, and grabbed Luka's ankle and guided it up and down, so he was lying flat on his back with Sergio kneeling between his legs.

Sergio stared down at him, his pupils blown out so his eyes were almost entirely black. His cock was huge and red and wet between high thighs, so hard it looked painful. 

Luka wanted to take Sergio deep into his throat; to jerk him off and feel his dick twitch in his palm as he came, to touch Sergio all over. But he could also barely lift his arms off the bed. “Can you come on me?” he asked instead, his voice sounding wrecked and sleepy, and Serigo’s eyes flared and his hand flew to his dick almost before Luka was done speaking. 

Sergio stroked himself _ twice-- _Luka wasn’t exaggerating, or hallucinating, or counting wrong: his hand moved up and down, up and down, and then cum was spurting out of his cock so hard it reached the top of Luka’s chest, and then kept coming out until it striped Luka’s abs and thighs and his own spent dick.

Sergio sank back on his knees after, looking at Luka from under hooded eyes. They both breathed and stared at Sergio’s cum on Luka for a long moments, and then all at once Sergio dropped his palm to Luka’s chest, his hand sliding in the mess, and heaved himself down to kiss Luka, his mouth wide and uncoordinated and familiar and everything Luka wanted. 

Luka woke up the morning after curled together with Sergio in Sergio’s bed, their legs slotted together and Sergio’s chin resting on the top of Luka’s head. Luka blinked awake and pulled back and inch to peek at Sergio and found him already awake, his eyes half focused on the wall behind Luka’s head. 

His gaze shifted to Luka and sharpened, his eyes intense and unreadable for a second, and then he smiled; not the huge, wide smile he did most of the time, but an almost shy one, his lips closed and his eyes soft and crinkled. 

Luka knew, looking up at him, that he wasn’t strong enough to hold himself back from Sergio anymore. 

He knew that he was being stupid and weak. He knew that eventually the world outside of their dorm would intrude, and that he would lose Sergio, and that it would hurt so bad Luka wouldn't be the same after. But now, instead of grabbing onto that thought and using it to push Sergio away, he made himself ignore it. 

***

Later that week, Crown played their last game before the school’s Thanksgiving break. It was the second to last game before the end of the regular season, and Crown already had enough points to move on to the playoffs, so Luka was on the bench, resting, while Sergio captained the team.

As they’d all warmed up, Luka had made himself keep a casual distance between him and Sergio, even though he wanted to be pressed up against Sergio as close as possible. He’d ignored him for most of warmups, and Sergio had done the same, until, after a drill, they found themselves right next to each other on the pitch. 

Sergio looked at Luka with his eyes a bit shielded, his expression carefully blank.

“Hey,” Luka said, holding a hand out for Sergio to slap. Sergio glanced at it, then back up to Luka’s eyes. He slapped Luka’s hand and then gripped it, pulling Luka into his chest and wrapping an arm around his back. 

Luka’s hands scrabbled against Sergio’s ribs for a moment, nervous and off balance, and then Sergio stuck a hand in his hair and rubbed his scalp, and without even telling himself to do it, Luka relaxed. 

“I can’t stop staring at your ass,” Sergio hissed. “You’re so fucking hot it’s ridiculous.” 

Luka laughed, loud and happy, and shoved Sergio away from him. “Shut up,” he said, smiling at Sergio so wide and uncool he made himself blush. 

Sergio smiled back at him the same way. “I’m gonna score you a goal,” he said, like he was sure it was true, his voice so confident that it really couldn’t even be called cocky. 

Luka hadn’t sat out a match where Sergio played yet, so this was the first time that he’d got to do nothing but enjoy watching Sergio play football. The captain’s armband stretched around his bicep as he motivated the other guys, kept his back line in position, and did some of the best defending Luka had seen since he came to Crown. 

And only fifteen minutes into the first half, he did score, heading in a corner kick from Toni. It wasn’t objectively the best goal Luka had ever seen, but he didn’t know if he’d ever seen one that made his pulse pound harder. Sergio ran to the edge of the field nearest the benches and, his eyes on the home crowd cheering behind Luka, brought the first two fingers of his right hand to his mouth and kissed them. Luka’s dick got hard so fast his stomach lurched. 

It would look innocent, he figured, unless you’d had those fingers inside of you just a few nights before; unless you’d seen Sergio suck your cum off those same two fingers with his eyes hot and hungry all over your body. Sergio waved to the crowd, and exchanged hugs with the guys on the pitch with him, and then he looked at Luka, so quick Luka would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at Sergio as hard as he was, and winked. 

When they got back to their dorm that night, Luka _ devoured _Sergio. Sucked his dick harder and sloppier and noisier than he ever had, spit running down his chin and squelching as he bobbed up and down Sergio’s cock. Sergio moaned constantly, and when he came he arched off the bed, his abs shaking, and said, “shit shit shit,” sounding like he was in pain. 

Sergio just blinked at the ceiling after, his hand mindless in Luka’s hair. “Okay, I get it, Luka,” he said after a few minutes. “I’ll score more goals for you.”

***

The next day was the official start of the school’s Thanksgiving break. Sergio and Luka had a week off from classes and, also, a week of from football. Zidane had told them they weren’t even allowed to train on their own, outside of light sessions at the gym. No running, no time on the pitch, no working with a ball. The first game after break would mark the end of the regular season, but after that, Crown would be in the playoffs, which were long and hard and exhausting. This week, Zidane said, they should talk to their families and eat a bunch of food and let their bodies rest. 

Luka _ hated _rest.

Sergio did a good job keeping Luka busy over the weekend, though. They spent almost all day Saturday in Sergio’s bed. Sergio woke Luka up with his mouth on Luka’s bare chest and sucked his cock until he came in his throat. Then, he just kept his mouth around Luka’s cock, even when Luka tugged at his hair and whimpered, until Luka was hard again, and then he’d sucked Luka again and let Luka come on his face. They spent the rest of the day doing basically the same thing over and over--making each other come, then cuddling and talking and messing around until one of them was ready to go again, then making each other come again. Eventually, when Sergio groaned that he didn't think he would ever be able to get hard again and Luka silently agreed, they ran to a restaurant close by campus and brought carry out back to their dorm. They ate it in Sergio’s bed and watched Netflix for so long that Luka’s eyes were sore and unfocused by the time they went to sleep.

On Sunday, Luka slept in longer than he had all semester. He finally woke up at lunchtime feeling hungry and boneless, his cock and his ass both sore in a sweet, achey way that meant he couldn’t stop thinking about them. Sergio was already awake, lying next to Luka with his phone in one hand while Luka’s head rested on his arm. Luka rolled his head against Sergio’s shoulder and blinked at the brightness of his phone screen, trying to make his eyes focus. Sergio tilted the phone towards him. “I’m looking at Thanksgiving foods,” he said, and Luka realized that he was reading a recipe for mashed potatoes. Sergio dropped his phone onto the bed beside him and rolled to wrap Luka in a hug. “Morning,” he said, pressing his face to the place where Luka’s neck met his shoulder and breathing in long and deep.

Then he told Luka his plan. 

He’d been thinking about it even before he woke up that morning, apparently, but he’d had tons of time to really figure it out while he waited for Luka to get up. 

“I think we should do our own Thanksgiving,” he told Luka. “We could try American Thanksgiving foods or just do stuff from home that we like. We can go to the store and get stuff, and then on Thursday we can cook it together.” Sergio’s voice was so excited that Luka almost didn’t want to protest, but he was Luka, so he couldn’t help himself from pointing out how unnecessary it was to celebrate another country’s holiday and how busy the grocery store would be and how gross their dorm’s tiny communal kitchen was. “Why go to all that trouble?” he asked Sergio. 

Sergio listened to Luka’s objections, and seemed to seriously think about them. “Well,” he said finally, “because I want to have a holiday with you.” 

And what could Luka possibly say to that? “Okay,” was all he could come up with. And also, but so quiet he half-hoped Sergio wouldn’t hear it, “Me too.” 

The grocery store was even worse than Luka remembered from last year when he’d made the mistake of going a few days before Thanksgiving. Every aisle was crowded with people moving in different directions and stopping to look at different things. Sergio tried his best to weave their cart through the displays and kids and people standing back from the shelves to survey them. He said “excuse me” probably about a million times, but somehow he still smiled every time he said it. He still had the patience to look at the ingredients on boxes and to consult his recipes again and again to make sure they weren’t missing anything. Luka felt frazzled and overwhelmed, and even when they eventually made it back to their dorm with loads of heavy bags, he was buzzing with so much energy he was pacing back and forth in their small dorm. 

Sergio was sitting at his desk making notes on the recipes he’d printed out, but after letting Luka pace for a few minutes, he spun his chair around and looked at him. “Luk_ ita _,” he said, widening his eyes. He held out a hand for Luka and Luka stepped toward him and laid his wrist in Sergio’s grip and then let Sergio pull him and turn him and move him, until he found himself sitting sideways in Serigo’s lap, both of his legs hanging between Sergio’s, Sergio’s arm wrapped around his waist and holding him steady. 

“Damn you hate shopping,” Sergio said, making Luka laugh. He did--he _ always _ had--but going with Sergio hadn’t been the _ worst _ experience of his life. Not when Sergio was picking out ingredients for a meal he’d planned just for him and Luka.

Luka swallowed and put a palm on Sergio’s chest. A month ago, he never would have let Sergio hold him this way. He would have thought it was too intimate or too weird of a thing to want. Even now, sitting on Serigo’s lap made him feel light and floaty and tiny, but he felt it in a way that made his chest feel light. 

“I am a little excited, though,” Luka confessed slowly. “It...makes me feel special that you did all this.” Luka blushed as soon as he’d said it. It was so baldly, humiliatingly honest. So needy and pathetic and exposing, and he couldn’t believe that he’d said it to Sergio, except that he could. Because Sergio had had his fingers inside of Luka and still looked at him like he was strong and normal and hot. Because he’d done this for Luka, even after all the ways Luka had been shitty to him. Because in the last week, Luka had realized he trusted Sergio more than anyone in the world. 

Luka had always been a pretty private person. He loved his family, loved talking to them and spending time with them, but when something went wrong or Luka was feeling stressed or sad or annoyed, he’d always wanted to keep it to himself. But now, he found himself complaining to Sergio about the smallest things, talking to him about all the even mildly interesting things that happened to him each day. 

Sergio's eyes warmed and he tucked Luka’s hair behind his ear, a soft, simple movement that Luka felt in every atom of his body.

Sergio gave him an examining, thoughtful look, his palm pressed to the hinge of Luka’s jaw and his fingers still curled bhind the shell of his ear, his thumb stroking along Luka’s hairline. He frowned in concentration and moved his eyes back and forth between Luka’s like he was looking for something. After a moment but expression shifted a bit so he was just meeting Luka’s eyes. He took a deep breath. “Luka, I can’t imagine this semester without you. I want--”

There was a loud knock right at the door of their room before Luka could even begin to process Sergio’s words. Luka twitched in Sergio’s lap when a couple weeks ago he would have jumped off. He smiled at Sergio and leaned forward to peck him quickly on the lips. Nobody other than the RA had ever knocked on their door, and when he did he usually just wanted to glance in to make sure they weren’t drinking or throwing a wild party or anything. _ Not much chance of that, _Luka thought, as they were basically the only people left in their dorm building after most of the American kids had gone home for break. 

Luka got up, trailing his hand along Sergio’s arm before pulling away fully and going to the door. He opened it all the way, ready to show the RA that there was nothing going on and then to get back in Sergio’s space and get more of Sergio’s hot looks and sweet words. Then he saw his mom, and then his dad, and then he heard both of their voices telling him, “Surprise!” in excited, joyful Croatian. 

“Is this Sergio?” Luka’s mom asked in English, and for some inane reason he noticed that her accent was less thick than it had been the last time he’d heard her speak English. 

Luka thought he might throw up. He felt like everything was wrong--his mom speaking to him, but not in their language. Sergio near him, but not touching him. His dad smiling and wearing a white button up shirt just like always, but standing inside the tiny, cramped dorm room Luka shared with Sergio. 

His jaw had genuinely dropped when he’d processed that it was his parents standing outside the door. His stomach had tightened and tightened until Luka felt like he couldn’t move, and his parents had both laughed, joking about how well they’d surprised him. 

"We came to spend your break with you!" his dad said, clearly seeing how thrown Luka was. "We know how much you hate free time," he laughed. 

Then Luka's mom had opened her arms and pulled him into a tight, close hug, the smell of the lotion she always used familiar enough to ground Luka, just a bit. He hugged her back, and then hugged his dad, telling them that, yes, obviously he was surprised and wow, he was so happy to see them. 

“Well, let’s see your room!” his dad had said after a long moment in the doorway, and Luka had looked over his shoulder for just a second, searching around the room to make sure there wasn’t some obvious marker of what he and Sergio had been doing the last two days. There were clothes on the floor, but that wasn’t too weird, Luka thought. Sergio’s bed was rumpled while Luka’s was fairly neat, but they probably wouldn’t think anything of that, right? Luka tried to make his eyes skip over Sergio, but they caught on him, still sitting in his desk chair, his eyes wide and his shoulders tense. Luka had no idea what his own expression looked like, but he hoped it wasn’t as terrified as he felt. 

He’d let his parents step into the room around him, and his mom had noticed Sergio right away. Sergio stood up when she said his name, but didn’t say anything or move toward Luka and his parents.

“Luka, introduce us!” Luka’s mom prompted in Croatian after Luka failed to say anything for a long moment. She raised her eyebrows at him meaningfully--a subtle thing she’d done ever since he was young to let him know if he was accidentally being rude.

She thought, he realized, that him and Sergio were roommates, teammates, and just barely aquaintances; thought that maybe Luka didn’t think he needed to introduce them because Sergio wasn’t a big deal to him. 

He couldn’t even _ glance _ at Sergio. He trusted Sergio. Sergio had _ earned _his trust, slowly and sweetly, with everything he’d done for Luka over the last few months. He knew that if Sergio knew exactly how things were with Luka and his parents, Sergio would never do anything to make them even begin to suspect that he and Sergio had done anything together. 

But Luka hadn’t told Sergio anything about his parents, because the idea of talking about his parents with Sergio, or vice versa, had made him feel sick and lightheaded.

Luka knew there was no way to get through this without hurting himself, and he knew that he couldn’t get out of it without hurting either his parents or Sergio, and he knew he couldn’t choose Sergio over them--shouldn’t even have to think about it. But Luka would take as much of Sergio’s hurt as he could. He would be as good as he could for Sergio, who had always, ever since Luka met him, been good to Luka. 

“This is Sergio Ramos,” he said. He was too out of it to even know if his voice came out sounding as wrecked as he felt, but he made sure he pronounced Sergio’s name the right way, in Spanish; the way he knew Sergio preferred even though he never corrected anyone on it. 

Sergio stepped forward, moving around Luka without touching him, and held out his hand to Luka’s mom. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his voice sounding friendly and sincere, and Luka could hear the smile in his voice. Luka watched as Sergio shook hands with his mom, and then his dad. Watched them smile at him and introduce themselves, watched his dad raise a surprised but not totally unpleasant eyebrow at Sergio’s tattoos. Then Sergio stepped back and stood off to the side, and Luka flicked his eyes to him for a moment, just long enough to notice that, for the first time since he’d known him, Sergio looked like he felt awkward.

There was a quick blip of silence, and then Luka said, “He’s from Spain.” That was enough to get his mom saying how glad she was Luka had a European roommate, and how Sergio must be so homesick, and to have Luka’s dad talking about a business trip he’d taken to Madrid twenty years ago, asking Sergio about the restaurants and neighborhoods he’d visited on the one weekend he’d been there as if he was a local. 

Sergio seemed to settle back into himself. Luka’s parents laughed and nodded and listened, so Luka assumed Sergio was answering their questions well, although he couldn’t even pretend to focus on what Sergio was saying. 

After a few long moments of small talk, Luka’s parents said they were starving, and that they should all go to dinner together, and asked Sergio what his favorite restaurant in town was. 

“Uh,” Sergio said. “There’s a Spanish place. You all should go, though, I--”

“No way!” Luka’s mom and dad said at the same time--it was their favorite English expression, so much that it was like an inside joke with Luka’s siblings to say ‘no way’ in response to totally normal things. It was the easiest way to make Luka’s sisters laugh. 

Luka had no idea why he couldn't stop thinking the most useless stuff. 

"Do you want to change?" Luka's mom asked, eyeing Luka's workout shorts and Crown University t-shirt. "We rented a car, Luka! We'll give you boys a minute to change and then we can all ride to the restaurant together, okay?"

Luka must have said okay, because his mom and dad were walking out and then shutting the door behind them. 

They left the room so quiet Luka thought Sergio must be holding his breath just like Luka was. He listened to his parents muffled voices soften as they moved away from the door. 

"Luka," Sergio whispered after a moment, his voice sounding desperate, "I don't have to go. Just tell them I really have a lot to do or that I have a date or something."

Luka shook his head, looking at the floor. "They'll just want you to come later in the week, then," he said in a low voice. He made himself drag his eyes up to Serio's, and when their gazes finally met he felt it like a elbow to his ribs. Sergio's eyes were huge and scared and full of pity. "Please just dont say anything," Luka begged him, even though he knew he didn't have to beg. Sergio nodded his head fast, his eyes widening.

"Of course," he said. 

Luka let himself hold Sergio's eyes for another second and then turned to his closet and pulled a button up shirt off a hanger. "My parents like to dress up for dinner," he said. He undressed and redressed and listened to Sergio doing the same. He felt stiff and cold and scared. He wanted to cry. He wanted to tuck himself under Sergio's chin and pretend that the last ten minutes hadn't happened. 

He didn't look at Sergio until they were out of the room. His mom and dad were sitting on a couch in the common area, and they both turned to look over their shoulders at the sound of Sergio locking the door. 

“Well, don’t you look handsome!” Luka’s mom said to Sergio, her voice kind. Luka's eyes flickered to the side. Sergio was wearing a pale grey sweater with dark grey dress pants and shiny black shoes, an outfit Luka had no idea where he’d pulled from. He looked, Luka thought, exactly like the type of guy someone’s mom would say was handsome. “Luka,” his mom said then, “where’s your...” she paused, moving her hand around her chest as she searched for the word in English, but Luka already knew what word was going to come out of her mouth when she eventually said, “crucifix.”

Luka hadn't worn it since he stepped off the plane from Croatia months ago. He was pretty sure he still believed in God, although it wasn't something he thought about much, but he couldn't wear the necklace his parents expected him to wear every day without feeling its weight scrape against his neck. 

"Oh," he said stiffly, bringing a hand to his throat. "I guess I forgot to put it on after our match."

He could feel Sergio's eyes on him as he unlocked the door to their room and stepped back inside. Sergio stood in the doorway, propping the door open for Luka as Luka reached into the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out the thin gold chain that Sergio had never once seen him in but that his parents had almost never seen him without. He looped it over his head and let it drop around his neck. 

Last fall, Luka had gotten so depressed his family could tell just from talking to him on the phone and one of his professors had given him a card for the student wellness office. He hadn’t felt sad, or even bad really. He wouldn’t have even called it depression if the councillor Zidane eventually forced him to talk to hadn’t told him that’s what it was. He’d just felt distant, like every single thing and person and sensation was far away from him. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything--classes, conversations, people around him in the hall. He’d felt like the only thing he could do was run, and so he did all the time, for miles and miles, until he pulled a muscle in his leg right before the final.

That wasn’t really how Luka felt now, but it was similar. He heard Sergio and his parents talking; understood what they were saying. He read the menu and chose something and ordered it. He got his food and started eating it. He participated in the conversation when he knew he was supposed to. But he felt like he was a thousand fucking miles away. 

He’d always been shy and a little awkward, so he hoped his parents didn’t think much of it, and Sergio already knew how fucked up Luka was, anyway, so it didn’t really matter if he noticed. 

Sergio’s hand landed on Luka’s shoulder just as Luka had that thought. Luka had to flex every muscle in his body to keep himself still, to stop from melting into Sergio’s touch or jerking away. Sergio had been saying something Luka hadn’t bothered to focus on. He paused, turning his head and met Luka’s eyes for a brief moment. He had a smile on his face, wide and toothy and just a little bit off. “Luka is the best footballer I’ve ever played with and the best roommate I’ve ever had,” he said, tightening his grip on Luka’s shoulder for a second and then pulling away and turning his face back to Luka’s parents.

Luka shouldn’t let himself miss Sergio’s touch right now--not when he was already thinking so many things at once that it felt like every thought was cancelling out another until his head was empty. He shouldn’t let anything distract him, when he needed to be so careful and there was so much at stake. He knew that, but he still couldn’t stop his hand from sliding off his lap under the table to grab onto Sergio’s thigh. 

Sergio tipped his leg so it was even closer to Luka’s and flexed the muscle at the top of his thigh up into Luka’s touch. 

His dad leaned forward then, his eyes intense on Luka’s in the way they only were when he talked about football. “Did you see the match two nights ago?” he asked, and then they were off talking about the Dynamo Zagreb game, discussing tactics and goals and how much his dad hated the manager. It was familiar, because it was like almost every other conversation he’d ever had with his dad. It was easy, because Luka could play and talk about football even when he was half out of his mind; even if he was discussing a match he’d watched while sitting between Sergio’s legs, both of them naked under Sergio’s blanket, his hand on Sergio’s thigh just like it was now.

Luka’s dad mentioned one of Dynamo’s centerbacks; a guy who’d played for the team for years and was almost forty now and prone to terrible, stupid mistakes. His dad loved him, but every time Sergio watched a game with Luka, watching the guy’s defending made him groan. 

“Luhlman had a great game, no?” Luka’s dad said, and Luka couldn’t stop himself from glancing sideways at Sergio for a second before looking back toward his dad.

“Oh, you’re a centerback, right?” Luka’s dad asked, pointing at Sergio.

“Yes,” Sergio said.

“Have you been watching Zagreb games with Luka?” Luka felt Sergio’s leg shift under his hand. 

“Uh huh,” Sergio said after a beat.

“Oh, great! Can you believe Luhlman’s clearance at the end of the last match?” Luka knew Sergio knew exactly what his dad was talking about, because Luhlman’s desperate, flailing limbs and his sloppy tackle had made Sergio laugh so hard he could barely breathe. 

“No, not really,” Sergio said, his voice careful.

Luka almost smiled. “He hates Luhlman,” he said robotically, and both of his parents gasped. 

It was fine for a while after that, except for the fact that Luka’s chest hurt and he felt nauseous and he would rather be anywhere than at dinner with his parents and Sergio. But he had Sergio’s thigh warm and sturdy under his hand, and Sergio and Luka’s dad and occasionally his mom were bickering casually about the best and worst defenders and Real Madrid and Barca and whether a penalty in the last classico had really been a penalty. 

Things quieted down after a bit and they all turned to their food for a moment, and Luka thought, _ maybe things will be okay. _

Then his mom looked up at Sergio, her eyes mischievous, and said, “Sergio, my son never tells me anything, but I know you wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

Sergio blinked, and then said, “Of course not,” and if you didn’t know him, his voice sounded nothing other than light and honest. If you knew every tone of his voice and shift of his muscles, though, and if you had your hand on his thigh, it was clear the question made him almost as edgy as it made Luka. That, strangely, relaxed Luka just a little bit. 

Sergio clearly knew what was at stake; what he could say and what he couldn’t. He hadn’t touched Luka all night, other than the hand he’d briefly put on his shoulder, which was brotherly and friendly, not--not like what they really were. 

“Good boy,” Luka’s mom said, grinning. “So,” she glanced at Luka and then back at Sergio. There was nothing mean in her eyes--just affection and playfulness and curiosity, but her words felt like a hit to Luka’s stomach. “Does Luka have any girl friends?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry I took so long to update! My laptop broke and also, Sergio's moustache kind of robbed me of inspiration for a little bit. But now I have a new laptop and [this video](https://www.instagram.com/p/B7PNQ_Lgjk7/) making me absolutely Modramos crazy again. 
> 
> This chapter and the next one are the ones I've been most excited to write ever since i outlined this story. Let me know what you thought, and thanks for sticking with me through all these irregular updates! I'll try to do better!


	13. Chapter 13

Luka sat at lunch with his parents, so many thoughts in his head that he heard them like a whirring in his ears and felt them as a painful pressure behind his eyes. 

“Luka,” his mom said suddenly, and then started laughing so hard she couldn’t talk. Luka couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his mom’s loud, uncontrollable laughter. “Remember--” she stuttered, and then she started laughing again. 

The thing was, Luka had really never heard his parents say anything homophobic. He’d seen them blanch a bit when they saw two guys kissing in public, and a few times his dad had changed the channel when there was a gay couple on TV getting too intimate. It wasn’t like they protested gay marriage, or constantly talked about hating gay people, or used gay slurs or anything. 

“Remember that kid you used to play against who would _ always _try to make bicycle kicks?” his mom managed to huff out through heavy laughter. 

But his parents were good, strict Catholics. Luka remembered going to mass when he was fourteen and hearing one of his mom’s friends ask for prayers for her nephew, who was twenty five and moving in with another man who he said he was in love with. He remembered his parents shaking their heads like they couldn’t believe it, and on the way home, talking about how hard it must be for the parents. “To know your son was going to hell...” his mother said sadly. “I don’t know how you could know it and keep loving him the same way.” Luka’s dad had nodded. Luka had sat quietly in the back seat and thought of the dream he’d had the night before, where he knelt at the feet of a faceless guy like he was kneeling before an alter and worshiped the guy’s dick like it was god. 

“Oh boy,” Luka’s dad said, chuckling too now. “I totally forgot about that. Damn, what was his name?”

Luka knew he couldn’t be with Sergio and have his parents still love him. A few months ago, the idea of giving up his relationship with his family for sex would have been ridiculous. A few months ago, when sex was nothing but his own hand and guilt and shame, Luka would have made the decision easily. 

“Neilson,” Luka said, smiling along with his parents. 

Now, sex was so much more that Luka couldn’t stop comparing and weighing the two parts of his life, trying to figure out which one to keep. It was Sergio close and warm and perfect even when they weren’t hooking up. It was gentle fingers in his hair and soft lips on his neck and dark eyes that felt like they were inside his soul. It was Sergio’s laugh and his constant talking and the hot, worshipful noises he made when he came. It was something Luka was scared to even think about naming. 

“Yes!” his mom said, and somehow hearing just the kid’s name sent her into another fit of laughter. 

Luka told himself, over and over, that he _ had _to choose his family, and his career. That Sergio was a temporary hook up who he would never see again after next semester anyway. That Sergio would never consider choosing Luka over his family or his dreams. 

“You said you heard him tell his striker to set every ball up for him to do an overhead kick,” Luka’s dad said. 

His parents had taken care of him when he was too young to take care of himself. Last year, when he’d come home from school feeling listless and hopeless and too tired to get out of bed, his mom and sisters and dad had fed him and talked to him and been there for him until he was better. His family _ loved _him.

“And he would yell at the other guys if they took a shot themselves,” Luka said. 

He told himself all that, but he couldn’t stop from comparing that way his family’s affection felt with the way Sergio’s made him feel. For as long as he’d known he was attracted to men, Luka had known that his family’s love was conditional. That it came with a suffocating heap of guilt and denial and shame and _ ifs. _

Luka’s mom and dad kept working themselves into harder laughter, the kind that happened when they remembered some funny inside joke they hadn’t thought of in years. “That one time you played him I swear his back must have been covered in bruises. He just kept jumping up,” his mom feigned jumping, spreading her hands wide and moving them up, “and falling down.” She dropped her hands to land on the table with a smack. “And he _ never _scored!” 

Sergio’s--friendship, or whatever, was different than anything Luka had had before. Sergio had seen bad parts of Luka--he’d seen him play shitty football and get too caught up in winning and yell at his teammates; he knew--he was the only person in the world who knew--that Luka loved sucking cock and getting fingered and kissing other guys; he had helped Luka with his homework enough times over the last few months to realize that Luka wasn't smart or dedicated or ambitious in the same way Sergio was. _ I’ll take whatever you give me, _Sergio had told him a few weeks ago. 

“He never even got _ close _!” Luka’s dad howled. 

With Sergio, Luka had found parts of himself he hadn’t even known existed, and he _ liked _ the parts he found. He liked feeling sexy and interesting and brave and just _ himself. _

“They didn’t let him take penalties because they were scared he’d try to take them backwards,” Luka said, a joke that someone in his family said every time they told this story. 

Luka knew Sergio liked him--there was no way he could doubt that anymore. He knew Sergio liked hooking up with him. But Luka had had best friends before, teammates or classmates he’d spent tons of time with for a season or two before one of them moved and they never talked to each other again. Through every single person that had come in and out of his life, his family had been there; his mom cooking his favorite foods, his dad playing football with him in their backyard, his sisters coming into his room after they got out of school and telling him which of his teammates they had crushes on. 

Luka’s mom finally stopped laughing, wiping tears out of her eyes. His dad rubbed his hand over his chin, rubbing his wide smile off his face so just a little grin was left. Their eyes were both bright, like Sergio’s after he scored a goal. 

Luka’s head throbbed. 

***

Luka was not forgetful. He never left the dorm without his phone and his wallet and everything he needed for class or practice. He never forgot to turn in assignments. He remembered the score of every match Crown had played this season. But this morning, when he’d left the dorm to spend another day with his parents, he’d forgotten his keys. 

Sergio pulled the door open for Luka almost as soon as he knocked. Luka wanted to smile at him. He tried to, but the sides of his mouth felt so heavy and tired he was pretty sure the look he gave him was more like a grimace. 

Luka felt more tired than he had maybe ever in his life. He knew there were dark circles around his eyes and that his hair was laying flat against his scalp and that the tension in his mouth made his lips look pursed and weird. 

Sergio’s eyes moved over him like he’d been waiting for years to look at him. “Hey,” he said, when his eyes met Luka’s. 

“Hi,” Luka said, ducking around Sergio and making his way to his bed, Sergio’s eyes tracking him, before dropping down onto his thin, stiff mattress with a heavy sigh. 

Sergio shut and locked the door behind him and watched Luka. “What did you guys do today?” Sergio asked, and Luka couldn’t believe he could make his voice sound so normal when everything between them was so, so weird. 

Luka had barely touched his own bed in the week before his parents came to visit, and in the three days since they’d arrived, he hadn’t touched Sergio’s. 

Luka was pretty sure Sergio had known before that Luka had never told anyone that he was into guys. But Luka’s panic on the night of their dinner with his parents, and his mom’s question about whether Luka had a _ girlfriend _had definitely hit the point home. Sergio hadn’t asked Luka about it, which Luka was so thankful for he couldn’t even tell Sergio. He told Luka’s mom that he and Luka were too busy trying to win the championship to worry about girls. Ever since Luka’s parents came to town, he’d followed Luka’s lead and acted like he and Luka were friends and nothing more, even when his parents went to their hotel at night and Sergio and Luka were alone in the dorm. 

Sergio hadn’t pushed him. He’d watched Luka and asked how he was doing and went to sleep in his own bed even though Luka could _ feel, _in waves coming off Sergio, how much he hated the space between them.

Luka knew that he deserved more than what Luka was giving him. He deserved for Luka to keep touching him and talking to him and listening to him, and not acting like they were suddenly nothing but roommates just because his parents were in town. He’d convinced himself, months ago, that while he was in college, in the tiny room he shared with Sergio, he could have what he wanted. But now that his parents were minutes away instead of hours, he couldn’t stop worrying that they were going to come into the dorm, through the locked door, and catch him with Sergio.

With his parents a constant, unforgettable presence, Luka got so lost in the tangle of his thoughts that it was hard for him to talk or even listen. He spent the days with his parents, showing them the few sad attractions the small college town has to offer, and when he got back to the dorm he analyzed every word they’d said to him and compared it to every moment he’d had with Sergio. 

And Sergio just sat, patient, and didn’t get upset when it took Luka way longer than it should to respond to his questions. 

“We shopped downtown and walked by the lake,” Luka finally answered.

Sergio smiled fondly. “I can’t believe how much you love that lake,” he said. “Even now when it’s all sad and frozen.” He shifted then, a few small movements, but Luka could tell immediately that Sergio didn’t want to have more meaningless conversation. He could see in the set of Sergio’s shoulders and the way he held his hands flat and tense against his thighs that he wanted to say something serious. “How are you feeling tonight?” Sergio asked him.

Luka wanted to be honest, to say that he felt breakable and scared and so torn between two things and two versions of himself that it hurt. That he wasn’t sure he could handle Sergio asking about why Luka’s parents made him so nervous or talking about being gay or--_ fuck, _Luka realized breathlessly, maybe breaking up with him. 

But he had never in his life answered questions like "how are you doing" honestly. So he told Sergio the only answer he ever used: "I’m good."

Sergio heaved a long breath out through his nose, nodding. "That's good," he said. He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up so the long strands on top of his head tangled together. "I want to ask you something."

"Okay," Luka said, his stomach twisty and tight. 

Sergio sucked in a long breath, but when his eyes met Luka’s they were steady. "Have you thought about me and you past the end of the year?"

It took Luka a second to figure out what he was asking. When he got it, got that Sergio was asking him if Luka had thought about a future where the two of them were together, somehow,_ after _ Luka had graduated, his mind blanked. "Have _ you?_" he asked, his voice coming out shocked. 

Sergio rolled his lips between his teeth. It wasn’t something Luka had ever seen him do before, even the few times he'd seen Sergio uncomfortable and searching for words. He realized, after a moment, that it was a habit he'd picked up from Luka. 

"Yeah," Sergio said finally, his voice and face unreadable. "I've thought about it." Luka looked at him and waited, and after a moment Sergio grimaced slightly and told Luka, “Football in Spain is the best in the world. There’s a hundred teams that would love to have you.” He paused for a moment, and then kept talking, like he couldn’t stand to not fill the silence. “We would be closer to our families. If the team was big enough, they would have a charity department and I could get a job there. You’ll learn Spanish easy, I think.” 

Luka gaped at Sergio, who looked just on the edge of being embarrassed. “And we’d be...together?” he asked helplessly, not even able to think of the words to describe what two men like him and Sergio could be to each other. 

Sergio’s eyes sharpened, and when he spoke again his voice was sure. “Yes.” He watched Luka for a long moment, and Luka had no idea what he saw on Luka’s face. He felt thrown off his axis, proud and flattered and even more confused than before and sick with how much he liked Sergio. “I know you said we weren’t dating,” Sergio said slowly. Luka had, just a few weeks ago, and he’d meant it. “But then...” 

“Yeah,” Luka agreed._ But then, you fingered me and I started sleeping in your bed and you made me happier than I've ever been. _

Luka swallowed hard. “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said honestly. Now, though, he would never be able to stop.


	14. Chapter 14

Luka held his shoulders tense and close to his body as his mom held her arms tight around him and cried quietly into his ear. “I miss you so much when you’re gone,” she told him, sniffling. 

“I know,” Luka said, his voice low. “I miss you guys too.”

He shifted in his mom’s hold and she let him go, her hands trailing down his arms as she looked at him like it was the last time she’d ever see him. Every goodbye with her was like this: crying, and hugs that felt like they would never end, and prayers whispered against his hair. 

“I’m sad we didn’t get to watch you play,” Luka’s dad said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into another, but briefer, hug. 

“Me too,” Luka told him sincerely. 

They made small talk about the flight, and Luka reminded them again to tell his sisters hi, and then there was really nothing else to say, other than the one huge thing that Luka couldn’t stop thinking about but was never going to actually tell them; especially not when his mom was fingering the crucifix around his neck and pressing kisses to his cheeks and looking up at him with wet, teary eyes like he was the perfect son and his dad was saying he knew Luka would win the championship that year because there was no way there was anyone in America who could play like him. 

Having his parents visit for the week had made Luka so anxious he’d felt sick at times, but it was also, in a way, nice. He _ loved _his parents. Not just because he had to or he thought he should, but because they had the exact same sense of humor as him and were kind and thoughtful and supportive in almost every way. Being around them, telling inside jokes and gossiping about annoying family members, felt like being home, and made him realize he was homesick and hadn’t even known it.

With a few last goodbyes, Luka’s parents got into their bright red rental car and drove away, waving to him until they got to the end of the block and turned the corner. Luka stood on the curb and looked at the grey slush in the street. He felt both like a band had been unwrapped from his chest and like a piece of him had been taken away. 

Even though he hadn’t wanted his parents in Minnesota, he would miss them. But their departure also meant that Luka could touch Sergio again without panicking about them somehow seeing. 

When Luka went inside and stepped into he and Sergio’s room, Sergio was standing awkwardly by his desk. 

Luka pulled the door shut behind him, locked it, and stepped across the room into Sergio’s chest, pressing his forehead to his throat and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Luka had felt needy and edgy and scared all week. With Sergio against him, he finally, finally relaxed, letting out a weak, shaky breath and pressing his lips together as his eyes ached.

Maybe Luka should have learned from his parent’s visit how dangerous this thing was Sergio was; should have realized that he couldn’t keep being two people at once. But if he’d decided anything over the last week, it was that he didn’t know how he could give either Sergio or his parents up. 

"Aw, baby," Sergio said sympathetically, curling his arms around Luka and rubbing his chin in Luka’s hair. "You're okay."

Luka wanted to tell Sergio how important and good he was; that Luka liked him so much and that he was so glad he met him it made him feel like crying.

"Thank you," was all he managed to mumble against Sergio’s shoulder.

"You don’t have to thank me for anything," Sergio said immediately and vehemently. He held Luka for a long moment and Luka soaked up the feeling of Sergio’s warmth, feeling starving for it. “Have you eaten?” Sergio asked. 

“No,” Luka mumbled against Sergio’s skin. “They’re eating at the airport.” 

Sergio ran his hands up and down the length of Luka’s back, and then he set him away and met his eyes. “Good,” he told him. “I made you something.” 

Luka looked up at Sergio and smiled shakily. “Yeah?” he asked. He had missed eating with Sergio over the last week. He hadn’t realized before, but they almost always ate together now--snacking on chips or fruit while they watched football, getting takeout and eating it in their room, sitting with other guys from the team in the cafeteria, pausing just before they went out the door to a match and swallowing down protein bars while standing next to each other. 

“Yeah,” Sergio said, smiling sweetly down at Luka in a way that made Luka feel warm and special. “Come on, it’s in the kitchen.”

Sergio nudged Luka out of their room and followed close behind him to their floor’s communal kitchen where the wobbly dining table was set up with two non-paper plates, and actual silverware, and so much food that Luka thought the it would collapse. 

There was a whole chicken with lemons and onions and peppers, a plate of roasted potatoes covered in chopped green herbs, thick slices of bread next to a bowl of oil, a salad of avocados and cucumbers and tomatoes all chopped into precise little cubes, and a bowl of creamy looking rice with cinnamon sprinkled on top. And in the middle of the table were two bottles of wine; one red and one white. 

It was all stuff they’d bought at the store, Luka was pretty sure, but spread out like this and not just shoved into bags, it looked like so much more than Luka had expected. And Sergio had cooked it all by himself, alone in the hot, crowded kitchen while Luka had been practically ignoring him all week.

Luka turned to Sergio to find him looking down at Luka’s face, looking expectant and _ nervous. _ And because he never wanted Sergio to look nervous, and because Sergio had done something as nice as anyone had ever done for him, and because Sergio made him feel _ brave, _Luka stepped forward, dipped his fingers into the short, stiff strands of Sergio’s beard, leaned up, and kissed him on the lips. 

Sergio startled, and then when Luka didn’t pull away immediately like he seemed to be expecting he put his hands on Luka’s cheeks and tilted his head, slotting their lips even closer together. 

They were alone in the kitchen, and there were only a few people on the floor of their dorm over break, but still, anyone could walk in at anytime. They were _ not _locked behind the door of their dorm, and Luka’s parents weren’t even on the plane yet, but Luka pushed his tongue into Sergio’s mouth right there in the open, humming at how good he tasted. 

Sergio smiled against Luka’s lips, huffed out a happy breath, and then pulled away so he could give Luka the biggest, happiest smile Luka had ever seen, all stretched, wet lips and white teeth and sparkly, crinkled eyes. 

“Fuck,” Sergio laughed. He grabbed Luka’s face and leaned in to give him another quick kiss on the lips, and then one on each cheek. “Come on,” he said, pulling away and nodding toward the table. 

They sat down across from each other, Luka stunned again not just by the amount of food but how good and fucking _ fancy _it all looked. 

“Hey, do you...” Sergio hesitated, pulling Luka’s eyes to him. He bit his lip and then continued, sounding unsure, “Do you think I should pray?” Luka blinked, and Sergio continued quickly, “I don’t have to. My dad always does it when we eat on holidays, but I didn’t know if you--”

“No,” Luka said, although he had no idea why, “That’s okay. You can pray.” 

Sergio nodded, and after a long look at Luka, he folded his hands and bowed his head, so Luka did the same.

“God,” Sergio started in a quiet, formal voice, “thank your for this meal. Thank you for me and Luka being able to be together today. Thank you for letting us meet and get to know each other the way we have.” Luka squinted his eyes more tightly shut at that, unable to reconcile the fact that it felt so so good to hear with the thought that his and Sergio's relationship shouldn't be mentioned in a prayer. “Help Luka’s parents to have a safe flight home, and help my family to have a good day too. Please let our team win the championship this year, and keep us both healthy for it. Thank you. Amen.” 

Luka breathed “amen” so quietly even he couldn’t hear it, and he had to blink his eyes to clear them before he looked back up at Sergio. 

“Okay!” Sergio said, his voice back to being loud and booming as usual. “Give me your plate, I want you to have some of everything.” 

Luka ate everything Sergio put on his plate, and when Sergio asked him what he wanted more of, his eyes hopeful and sweet like a dog’s, he asked for potatoes and salad even though he was full. 

He and Sergio talked about classes starting, and the teams they would be playing soon, and what courses they were thinking of taking next semester, and of any silly, meaningless, fun thing that came up. Luka couldn’t stop just _ looking _at Sergio, at his bright eyes and his thick hair and his full, soft lips, and every time Sergio caught him looking he smiled at Luka so wide it made Luka blush. 

When they were done, Luka helped Sergo pack all the leftovers into plastic containers that Sergio sat in the kitchen’s fridge, even though they both knew from experience that everyone on the floor helped themselves to anything they found there. Luka insisted on washing the dishes, even though he _ hated _doing dishes, and Sergio stood beside him and rinsed and dried them, their elbows brushing and their bodies so close Luka could feel the heat of Sergio’s skin. 

After they ate, they went back to their dorm and Sergio pulled off his shirt and collapsed on his bed. “Take a nap with me?” he asked Luka, and Luka pulled off his shirt and pants and crawled into the space Sergio made for him between his arm and his chest, and then he slept easier and better than he had all week. 

Luka woke up warm and half-hard and sweaty where his skin was pressed against Sergio, who was always so warm when he slept. Sergio’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder and down his side, his hand resting flat against the side of Luka’s ribcage. Luka was on his side, his face pressed into the side of Sergio’s chest, which was rising and falling with long, even breaths as Sergio slept. 

Luka breathed in deep, the smell of Sergio’s skin and sweat so familiar and nice it made every muscle in Luka’s chest flex; tight and then loose. 

Luka let his breath out and pressed his mouth to Sergio’s skin, and then, even though he hadn’t even let himself _ think _it before, he mouthed “I love you,” wet and silent and over and over and in Croatian, because it felt realer and truer in his language.

He’d spent weeks trying to pretend things between him and Sergio were casual, but with nothing but skin and those words between them, there was no way Luka could lie to himself. 

Luka lay against Sergio for a long time and just let himself feel safe and warm and achy with emotion. 

Sergio woke up slowly, like always; tightening his arm around Luka and stretching his legs and mumbling, and then rolling over to wrap Luka in a tight, tight hug and to press his cheek to the top of Luka’s head. 

“Hey babe,” Sergio said, at the exact same time as Luka blurted out, “Can we have sex?” 

Luka blushed, and Sergio tensed under him and then pulled back a few inches to blink at Luka. “Uh,” Sergio said.

“I-” Luka said, and then just bit his lips closed and looked at Sergio and waited. It was hard, and embarrassing, and so scary he was twitching with tension, but Luka wanted this with Sergio so bad he could barely breathe. Sergio blinked again, and then his eyes heated and tracked over Luka’s face and down his chest to the band of his underwear. “I don’t mean, like, a blow job,” Luka said stupidly. 

Sergio nodded. “Right now?” he asked simply, his voice low and rough, like Luka wasn’t the most awkward person he’d ever known.

Luka nodded, his eyes on the tattoos on Sergio’s chest. Sergio ran his fingers through Luka’s hair, tugging at the ends to make Luka look up at him. Luka tilted his head where Sergio moved it and found Sergio smiling at him as wide as he had been in the kitchen earlier, except now his eyes were so hot they made Luka shiver. “Yeah?” he asked.

“_Yeah, _ ” Luka said, exasperated, pushing a hand against Sergio’s chest, his face so red he could feel the heat in his cheeks, “but I don’t want to _ talk _about it all day.” 

Sergio laughed and then pulled Luka into a hard kiss, trailing one hand down Luka’s back to squeeze his ass, which made Luka feel melty. 

“Get naked, then” Sergio said, pulling away and smacking Luka’s butt. Sergio rolled out of bed and pulled off his sweats and underwear on his way to his dresser, revealing his tight ass and narrow hips. Luka shoved his underwear down his legs and kicked them off the side of the bed, and then leaned up on his elbows and waited as Sergio grabbed the lube from the top drawer of his dresser. He paused for a second and then grabbed a condom, holding it up for Luka to look at. 

“No,” Luka said, and Sergio obediently dropped it back into the drawer and paced back over to Luka in two strides before dropping down on top of him, all hot skin and soft lips and roaming hands, and Luka kissed him back as hard as he could and arched into every touch and thought about how good Sergio was at giving him exactly what he needed.

Luka was panting on his knees with two of Sergio’s long, tattooed fingers in his ass before he realized he was still wearing his crucifix. It hung underneath him, swaying with the jerky movements he couldn’t stop making back against Sergio’s hand. 

Luka dropped his chin down to his chest so he was looking back at the bright gold of the necklace, and below it, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. He closed his eyes and shifted down onto his elbows, because that was too much for his head right now.

“I can’t believe how tight you are,” Sergio said, scissoring his fingers and stretching Luka in a way that hurt and felt so good it made him clench tighter to feel more of Sergio inside of him. “So good for me.” 

Sergio had been saying stuff like this to Luka ever since he’d gotten Luka on his knees and started touching his rim. Telling him how hot he was, how badly he wanted him, how much he liked him. That, combined with the fact that Sergio had had his fingers inside Luka a total of six times now, made Luka feel relaxed and sure and not even a little bit uncomfortable. 

He still felt exposed, but in a hot way, like he _ wanted _ Sergio to see parts of him no one else ever had; to touch him where no one else ever would_. _

Sergio pulled his fingers out, leaving Luka feeling empty and wrong, and then three of his fingertips were brushing at his rim again, pushing gently and slowly until Luka’s hole opened up and took them in in a slow, tight slide. 

Luka groaned. Three fingers was more than he’d ever taken before: the first few times, Sergio hadn’t even gone past one, being slow and careful with Luka as always, content to rub his prostate and not stretch him too much since they weren’t building up to anything other than an orgasm with Sergio’s fingers inside Luka’s ass and Sergio’s dick in his own hand.

Now, with the stinging, insistent stretch, Luka couldn’t forget what they were building up to. He couldn’t stop picturing it; imagining Sergio’s huge, thick dick pressing into his ass. 

“Sergio,” he said, his voice low and rough in his throat. 

“Luka” Sergio said, breathless, “Baby.” Luka shivered, the word Sergio had started calling him more and more sending goosebumps across the small of his back. “I think you’re ready,” Sergio told him, spreading his fingers and then pulling them back together as he slid them in and out of Luka. “Do you still want to do it?”

Luka’s hole felt stretched and used already. His dick was aching and his balls were sore and he felt like he could come now if he tried to. 

And once he took Sergio’s cock, he knew that he wouldn’t be the same again. He would be ruined; he would be himself and not his parent’s son; he would be undeniably, completely gay. He would never be able to forget Sergio, or to tell himself another lie about what was between them. 

“Yes,” he told Sergio--he didn’t beg, or pant, or whine. He said it surely and calmly, arching his neck to look at Sergio over his shoulder. “I need it.” 

“_Yeah, _Luka, me too,” Sergio breathed, his voice encouraging. He curled his fingers to stroke over Luka’s prostate as he pulled out of him, making Luka’s hips buck and his dick twitch.

“You want to stay like this?” Sergio asked, flattening his hand on the muscle of Luka’s ass and kneading it. 

“Uh huh,” Luka told him. It wasn’t the most dignified position--maybe one of the least actually: on his elbows and knees like a whore or an animal, his thighs spread wide so there was room for Sergio between them, his cock and balls swinging obscenely beneath him whenever he moved. 

Luka had almost never imagined himself actually having sex with another man before. But a few times, when he was guiltily, quietly getting himself off, his mind wandered there. He had always pictured himself on his stomach, his legs barely spread, his hips flat on the mattress, his lips pressed together and quiet. The only noises he imagined were soft breaths. 

He didn’t want any of that with Sergio. He wanted to be wild and noisy and sloppy and slutty. He wanted to give Sergio every single atom of his body, and take every tiny piece of Sergio, too. 

He kept his head turned to watch Sergio squirt lube onto his hand. Sergio stroked it onto his perfect cock, his eyes falling closed for a moment, then reached between Luka’s thighs and grabbed onto his balls, massaging the warmed lube into them for a long, hot moment, and Luka let out the neediest, sexiest sound he'd ever made. 

Sergio made a needy sound in return, and then gave Luka’s cock a few quick, slippery strokes before pulling his hand back and using one dry hand and one hand slightly wet with lube to part Luka’s cheeks.

“Never wanted anyone as much as you Lukita,” he breathed, and there was no way Luka couldn’t believe it, even though it was objectively unbelievable, when he saw the way Sergio was staring at his hole, his eyes reverent. “I’m going to come in four fucking seconds.” Luka huffed a laugh, and Sergio met his eyes and shook his head. “I’m being serious,” he said in a not at all serious tone, the corner of his mouth curving up.

Luka laughed at the idea of Sergio not absolutely blowing his mind in bed. “I have faith in you,” he said teasingly, smiling back at Sergio, _ grinning _at him, at a time when he never in a million years would have thought he’d be able to laugh or joke around or smile. 

Sergio ran a hand up Luka’s spine, all the way to his neck, where he twined his fingers in the back of Luka’s hair. His face got more serious, his eyes hot and gentle and looking so deep into Luka’s he could feel it in his stomach. “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” he said softly, and Luka nodded. 

And then Sergio shifted on the bed behind him, and pressed the head of his dick to Luka’s rim, and then pressed inside, smooth and slow and insistent. It wasn’t easy, or painless, or, like, perfect. It hurt, and it took a while, and Luka’s dick got a little soft for a while because it felt so weird. 

“You are _ so. fucking. tight, _” Sergio said, choppy and panting. 

“You’re so _ big, _” Luka said. He meant it just as an observation, because Sergio did feel huge inside of him, but it made Sergio moan and push further into Luka. 

Finally, Sergio got all the way inside, and then stilled, his hips pressed against Luka’s ass, his dick pressing against Luka from the inside, intimate, closer than anyone had ever been. 

Sergio’s fingers played gently with Luka’s hair while his other hand rubbed at Luka’s hip. “Now it’ll get better, I promise,” Sergio told him. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Luka said, dropping his forhead to the mattress, “you can move.” 

Sergio did, pulling out almost as slowly as he’d first pushed in, and then sliding back in. Luka brought one hand to his dick, squeezing it gently a few times until it got fully hard again. He shifted his hips back against Sergio a few times, and Sergio did the same, thrusting into Luka at a different angle each time, and then--”Fuck!” Luka said, his dick going from hard to desperate and aching as the head of Sergio’s cock brushed over his prostate. 

Luka was boneless. His legs and arms gave out for a second, so he dropped lower to the mattress, his face pressing into Sergio’s sheets. Sergio grabbed his hips and hefted them back up, keeping Luka where he wanted him. And then he let Luka lie there, breathing hard and barely able to move, his hips held up by Sergio’s grip and nothing else, his thighs shaking, his cock leaking even though his arms were too weak for him to keep touching it. 

Sergio started moving in and out of Luka in a steady rhythm. Every deep thrust in pushed the air out of Luka’s lungs, and every move out had him sucking in breaths through his teeth. Sergio grunted, sounding pained.

“You’re perfect,” Luka told Sergio, but his mouth was pressed against the bed so hard it came out like muffled nonsense. 

“This is so fucking good,” Sergio responded anyway. 

Sergio bent down so his back was pressed against Luka’s, his mouth at the back of Luka’s neck. He wrapped one arm around Luka’s hips, propping him up, and curled the other arm underneath Luka’s body. He started to wrap around his cock, but Luka shook his hips to dislodge him and said, his voice as firm as he could make it, "No." He was pretty sure he was going to come from nothing but Sergio’s cock in his ass, and if that was possible, he wanted it so much he would give up the sweet feeling of Sergio’s hand around him. 

“You don’t need it?” Sergio panted, and Luka mumbled in agreement. 

Sergio heaved out a breath and brought his hand up to grapple at Luka’s chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple a few times before his palm flattened on Luka’s sternum, right over the spot where Luka could feel his heart pounding and his breaths heaving. 

The chain of Luka’s necklace was swinging so hard it was slapping against his chest. Sergio caught it in his long fingers and trapped it under his hand, pressing the cool gold of the cross into Luka’s skin while he mouthed at the back of Luka’s neck and stroked his cock over Luka’s prostate with small, precise thrusts. 

“I’m gonna come,” Sergio panted. “Luka, Luka--please fucking come,” he begged, and Luka did. 

Luka came, every muscle in his body shaking, his ass and his heart and every other part of him feeling full and sore and raw. He felt Sergio come inside him, wet and hot, as Sergio made loud, sexy noises behind him: “aah,” and “ungh,” and “_Luka._” 

Luka sobbed with pleasure, and then he just sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought! I had so much fun writing this chapter. ;)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is soooo so short! Looking back, it definitely should have been at the end of the last chapter, but I thought I was going to add something more here that didn't end up working.
> 
> I'm working off a really rough outline in this story but basically making the bulk of the content up as I go along. I like writing this way because I love getting feedback as I go and because knowing you guys are out there waiting for a chapter is sometimes the only thing that motivates me to write! But I'm also constantly thinking of changes I want to go back and make to previous chapters. I think when I'm done I will go back and do some revisions so I can feel better about this work as a finished product.
> 
> Also, as long as I'm writing a weirdly long note--omg, I can't believe this fic is now longer than Pick Me Up, my last Modramos fic! When I started writing this one I thought it would be like an easy, mini version of that, but it's ended up being so much more difficult, requiring so much more thought, and taking so much more time. I still love writing about these guys though!
> 
> Anyway, if you read all that, thanks for listening to me ramble! Sorry again for this chapter, which I rewrote a ton of times and still don't really like. Better things are coming, hopefully soon!

“Fuck,” Sergio said, his lips sliding off the skin of Luka’s neck, his voice sounding panicky. He pulled out of Luka quick and a little clumsy, and there was a scrape of pain, but Luka was already crying into Sergio’s pillow anyway, his shoulders shaking, his breaths shallow in his lungs. Sergio’s hands were on him, rolling him off his stomach and onto his side, and then Sergio was lying beside him, his face just a couple inches away, his fingertips braced on Luka’s waist like he was afraid to touch Luka with his palms. Luka couldn’t look at him, but he couldn’t stand the idea of Sergio thinking Luka needed space from him, so he buried his face in Sergio’s chest, curled up his hands against Sergio’s stomach, and just kept crying, so hard his eyes ached. "Cariño,” Sergio said softly, still just stroking his fingers along Luka’s ribs, “What is it?” 

Luka couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, and he was surprised at how much it hurt--pressure behind his eyes, soreness in his throat from the sobs he couldn’t stop heaving out, and more than that, the terrible things he couldn’t stop thinking about: that his parents and even his sisters couldn’t love him anymore; that he was something that wasn’t supposed to exist in football, in locker rooms, in sports; that he was making Sergio feel like shit by crying when Sergio had just made him feel so good. 

“I’m sorry,” Luka whimpered, trying hard to calm his breathing. 

“Holy shit, no. _ I’m _sorry,” Sergio said shakily, his fingers still just brushing Luka’s sides. 

Luka made himself calm down enough to pull back and look at Sergio. There were still tears rolling out of his eyes, but he held Sergio’s worried gaze. “I’m just being stupid. I’m not crying because of you,” he told Sergio, his voice wobbling and mumbly. Sergio _ had _to know that. Sergio frowned, looking unconvinced. Luka sniffled and bit his lips and had no idea what to say that would make Sergio feel better and be true and make any sense and not humiliate Luka even more. “I love having sex with you,” he said sincerely. Being with Sergio made him realize things he didn’t want to acknowledge, but it also made him feel really, really good.

“Luka...” Sergio said, shaking his head and looking unsure. 

“I’m fine,” Luka insisted, wiping tears off his cheeks and giving Sergio a flat, calm look that he hoped halfway resembled his normal expression. 

Sergio cupped Luka’s cheeks in his palms and just looked, examining Luka and frowning like he was figuring out a puzzle, and under his scrutiny Luka couldn’t stop his lip from wobbling and his eyes from filling with tears again. Sergio pulled Luka back into his chest, breaking eye contact, and wrapped his arms tight around Luka. “Okay babe,” he said, and Luka could _ hear _that he was trying to make his voice sound normal and steady for Luka. “You can cry a little more, and then we have to shower, okay?”

Luka’s hands flew up to clutch at Sergio’s sides. As he let himself curl back into Sergio, he felt taken care of and safe and warm, and somehow still like he wanted to cry, and so he did. 

  
  


After they showered, Luka let Sergio lead him back to bed, pull the towel off his waist, and tuck him securely under the blankets. Then Sergio stood back, looking down at Luka but not lying down next to him. Luka blinked at the wall. 

Obviously Sergio wouldn’t want to be in bed with Luka now. He’d probably never want to touch or fuck Luka again. 

Sergio groaned, drawing Luka's eyes back to him, and ran his fingers roughly through his hair, tugging on the ends, before dropping his hands to his hips and looking hard at Luka.

“I don’t want to do things that make you feel like that,” Sergio said, tilting his head and clearly speaking about Luka crying after they’d had sex. “If you don’t want us to be together, then I don’t want it either.”

Luka’s stomach dropped and he sat up and shook his head as quickly as he could, looking up at Sergio with big eyes and hoping Sergio would see everything he felt but couldn’t figure out how to say. “I like being together,” he said. “I’m sorry I cried. I promise I won’t again.”

“Luka,” Sergio said, his voice so soft it hurt. He sat on the edge of the bed next to Luka and ran a hand up Luka’s arm, his palm rough and his touch soft, and then just looked at Luka for a long time, his eyes assessing. 

“I love you,” he said after a long moment. 

Luka sucked his lips into his mouth and bit them so hard he tasted blood. He started at Sergio, so beautiful and open and giving and brave Luka couldn’t believe he was _ real _and was really telling Luka _ I love you. _

His chest felt warm and liquid. He wanted to ask Sergio to say it again, over and over. He wanted to say it _ back _ . He wanted to call his sister, who’d always talked to Luka about her boyfriends and crushes and breakups, and tell her, _ I’m in love, please help me. _ “If you feel like crying,” Sergio continued quickly, like he didn’t think for even a second that Luka would want to respond to him saying he _ loved _ Luka, “I want you to cry to me. But I don’t want to be the thing that _ makes _you cry. I don’t want to keep having sex while you’re feeling unsure about it, and I don’t want to be together just for sex.” 

Luka felt like the ground was falling out from under him. None of what he’d been doing the past few months--being brave and taking what he wanted and pretending everything would somehow be okay--worked without Sergio. On his own, Luka was a mess. “I _ need _you,” he told Sergio, and felt like he was scraping himself raw and then handing Sergio salt to throw on his wounds if he wanted to. 

“Luka,” Sergio said, his tone firm enough to draw Luka’s eyes up to meet his, dark and serious. “I’m not breaking up with you, or anything fucking close to that, okay? But you have to work through things with yourself, and I don’t want to push you more than I already have.” Luka _loved _Sergio pushing him. If Sergio had never pushed him, Sergio would still be just his too hot, cocky roommate, and Luka would still be dreaming about him and feeling like shit about it the next day. Luka wished for the hundredth time that he was as good at talking as Sergio was--that he could find the words for his feelings and then just put them out there, brave and honest, but even thinking about it made his throat feel tight. And what could he say, anyway? ‘_I was lying before and I probably will cry every time, and I know you deserve someone who doesn’t get so fucked up over just having sex, but please please just keep me instead because I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this without you_’? He looked down and bit his lip to keep it from wobbling. Sergio brought a hand to his cheek and tilted his face back up. 

Luka just looked at Sergio, feeling desperate.

Sergio smiled the smallest, saddest smile Luka had ever seen on his face. He leaned in to Luka and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, then pulled just slightly away so he could look at Luka as he spoke. “I want to be with you,” he said, his eyes looking so intently into Luka’s there was no way Luka could doubt he was telling the truth. “But I don't want it if you hate that you want to be with me.”


	16. Chapter 16

Luka woke up the next day from a dream about Sergio. He was alone in his own bed, which he didn't like, and aching hard from the dream in which Sergio had fucked Luka with his tongue. He ignored his erection and glanced at Sergio's bed and found that Sergio was asleep and curled under his blanket so Luka could hardly see any of his skin. Maybe, Luka thought sadly, he'd spent the last night feeling as cold and lonely as Luka had. 

Luka got out of bed, feeling sad and confused and unsure, and a little bit proud of himself. If this was last year, fighting with Sergio--who had become a more important part of his life and Luka would have ever, ever imagined--would have made him feel so lost and depressed he wouldn’t have been able to do anything but run. But, even though it felt stupid to think, he was stronger now. He hated what was going on with Sergio, but he woke up and got out of bed and went to class, and the whole time he felt present--disappointed and tired and with sore, swollen eyes, but also real and thoughtful and not hopeless. 

Instead of thinking nothing and just letting everything wash over him, like he would have last year at this time, Luka thought, for hours and hours, about him and Sergio.

Obviously, Luka was in love with Sergio. There was no way he could not love him, when he was basically everything Luka would ever want in a partner. He loved football, and was almost as good as Luka, and didn’t mind Luka bossing him around when they played. He was so patient and kind that he’d never gotten mad at Luka, even when Luka fumbled his way through their relationship and wouldn’t let Sergio touch his dick and cried after sex and couldn’t figure out a way to tell Sergio how happy he made him. He knew Luka better than anyone outside Luka’s family, and he told Luka private things without Luka even having to ask. He made Luka laugh and laughed at Luka’s jokes even when no one else on the team got them. He was big and muscley and covered in tattoos and had hair Luka just never wanted to stop touching, and he was so, _ so _ good at sex that it hurt Luka to think about never being able to touch him again. He made Luka feel safe and warm just by being near him. 

He already knew--had been thinking all semester--about what he would be giving up if he chose Sergio. But somehow, he'd never really considered what it would be like to give _Sergio_ up. 

If not being able to wake up next to him and kiss him and touch him for one morning hurt as much as it had, how could Luka go his whole life without it? 

He wasn't sure exactly what his future _w__ith _Sergio would look like, but he thought maybe--maybe it would remind him of his parents. 

There was a moment from the week before his parents had come to visit that he couldn't stop thinking about. He'd been coming back to the dorm after an exam in his morning class, thinking over his answers and worrying about how he'd done, when he'd turned the corner and run into Sergio. Sergio must have been running late for his first class of the day, and he and Luka stepped around the corner of the hallway outside their room at the same time, both distracted and moving so fast they bumped into each other. 

“Luka!” Sergio said, sounding shocked to see him. He grabbed Luka’s arms to steady him, and Luka put one hand on Sergio’s ribs, more out of habit than because he needed to balance himself. And then they just looked at each other. Sergio’s eyes were wide open and happy, like just the fact that he’d seen Luka when he wasn’t expecting to had made his day, and Luka felt exactly the same thing. Sergio's thumbs kneaded the round muscles of Luka’s biceps, a movement that Sergio didn’t even seem to realize he was doing but that made Luka want to melt into his arms. 

“Hi,” Luka said dumbly. 

Sergio smiled. “Hey,” he said, sliding his hands off Luka’s arms. “I’m late for class," he said, talking fast. "How was your exam?"

“It was fine,” Luka said, feeling giddy about the fact that Sergio had stopped to ask about it when he was in such a rush. He pushed Sergio toward the door. ”I'll tell you later," he said. 

Sergio nodded, rolling his eyes happily, and then bent down to press his cheek to Luka’s in a friendly half-kiss, a move that Luka leaned up into instinctually. Sergio smiled at Luka one more time and then turned and walked quickly around the corner. 

That was it. It was normal, and they barely said anything to each other, hardly touched each other. 

But it made Luka think of his parents. Not about telling them or about what they would think, but about how much he’d always liked watching them together--short glances or single mumbled words that made them both laugh or raise their eyebrows, brief, platonic touches that you could somehow _ see _were full of love, bright smiles whenever they saw each other.

Luka could have that, he realized for the first time. He could give that to Sergio.

And, on top of thinking about all that, since Sergio had told him that he needed to figure himself out, Luka tried to think about his sexuality as his own thing, not connected to Sergio. 

He couldn't imagine wanting to be with anyone other than Sergio even when he tried. But even if they weren't together, Luka thought, for the first time, that maybe being gay was more than just who he slept with. It was something essential about him that Sergio had helped him take out of its box and that he didn’t know how to put back. 

Later that day, Luka and Sergio were balancing on footballs in the middle of the field, awkwardly not talking to or looking at each other, when Zidane came up and told Luka to come see him after practice.

Luka had spent the last ten minutes glancing sideways at Sergio and then looking away. He kept opening his mouth to talk, and then shutting it. He had so much to say to Sergio, and none of it was something he should say in the middle of practice, with their teammates all around them kicking footballs and yelling for passes and talking shit to each other. 

Zidane broke the silence as he called Luka’s name, seeming oblivious to the tension between them as he jogged over to them. “Can you come by my second office after practice?” 

Luka hated Zidane’s second office. The first was in the locker room. It was made of white brick like the rest of the room, and the walls were covered with the team photos from the past few years and a whiteboard with a lineups drawn on it and a huge printout of the season schedule. It smelled musty just like the locker room, and there was no door in the frame. It was where Zidane had told Sergio and Luka they were captains. Where he'd told Luka, during his freshman year, that he was good enough to win awards. Luka liked it. If he ever had to have a desk, he’d want it to be an old metal one like Zidane’s, with drawers so old they barely opened and a chair so uncomfortable it was almost never sat in. 

Zidane’s second office was on the second floor of the athletic building. There were bookshelves and framed degrees and certificates on the walls and a desk with shiny wood with cushy leather chairs on each side. It was the office Luka had gone to when he was failing all of his classes last semester and was required to tell his coach. It was where he’d come to Zidane after getting injured. It was where Zidane had told him to talk to a counselor on campus and to visit the tutoring center for help with his classes, and where Luka had almost cried because he was so relieved someone was finally telling him how to get out of the hole he’d been in.

“Okay,” Luka said, squinting up at him as the sun shone behind his head. Zidane nodded smoothly and walked away to talk to a few of the assistant coaches. 

Luka glanced sideways at Sergio and found Sergio looking at him, too. “Wonder what that’s about,” Sergio said casually.

“Yeah,” Luka said, his mind turning over with possibilities. He was doing well in all his classes, and he knew he was so much healthier than he’d been last year, in every possible way. Maybe Zidane was nervous he was going to hurt himself again, and was going to tell him not to run or work out too much, or tell Luka he couldn’t play because he’d clearly shown he was too unstable to handle playing in finals. 

He made himself tell Sergio what was going through his head--not just because he knew Sergio wanted to hear it, but because he knew, almost for sure, that once he put it out there, Sergio would find a way to make him feel better. “Because, uh, last time I had to go to that office was when I got hurt before the final.” 

Sergio shifted, the ball underneath him rolling a bit as he pulled his knee up and rested an elbow on it. “Well we know that’s not happening again,” he said, looking off thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just captain stuff.”

“Why aren’t you coming, then?”

Sergio smiled at him. “Well, because I’m the vice captain, I guess. Maybe he just wants to tell you how great you are and ask you to try and fail your classes so you can play for him again next year.” 

Luka scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” 

Zidane was sitting behind his desk when Luka peaked around the open doorway. “Hey, Luka,” he said, smiling kindly and gesturing to the chair across from him.

Luka said hi and sat on the very edge of the chair, his legs tense underneath him. 

Zidane’s smile faded and his expression got serious, the way it did during a match. “There’s going to be a scout at the game tomorrow,” he said plainly. “He’s really well connected with a lot of clubs in Europe. I used to know him when I played, and I asked him to come so he could see you.” 

Luka took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay,” he said.

“I know you’ll play well no matter what--that’s not why I’m telling you. But maybe show off a little, too, eh? Score one of your goals for him.”

Zidane smiled at him, his cheeks creasing and his eyes happy, and Luka’s face broke into a grin he couldn’t stop if he wanted to. Luka had never been nervous about the way he would play in front of a scout. Even though he hated getting compliments about his football, even though getting told he was the best player on a team weighed on him--Luka _ knew _that he was great. He knew he deserved to be scouted, and to get bought by a professional team and paid a lot of money to play. He knew he could show anyone who would take the time to watch him how much he deserved a contract. “I will,” he promised. 

“I know, Luka,” Zidane said, standing up and reaching a hand out for Luka to shake. Luka stood and took it, gripping it firmly and hoping Zidane didn’t notice the way his fingers shook a bit as he pulled away. “If there was a way to keep you playing for me, I would be chasing this guy off. But--” he shrugged as if to say, ‘what can I do?’ “As it is, I can’t wait to watch your career.” 

Luka felt goosebumps on the back of his neck; felt energy moving through his calves, making him bounce on the balls of his feet as he bent to pick up his bag. He wanted to get on the pitch _ now, _to start running and passing and showing off every single thing he could do. “Thank you,” he told Zidane, hoping that he could hear all the meaning in Luka’s words. 

“Thank you, Luka,” Zidane said. “You’re going to make people fall in love with football.”

Luka called his parents as soon as he got out of the athletic building. 

For all the problems between them, his parents had given everything they could to make sure Luka could accomplish his dreams of playing football. His mom had spent the first fifteen years of Luka’s life driving him to practice and signing him up to training camps and talking to his coaches. She’d taught herself to handle a football well enough that she could help Luka run simple drills in their backyard--receiving a pass and then kicking the ball softly, setting it up for Luka to shoot into the small net along the fence. His dad had never missed one of Luka’s home games, and he’d never tired to analyzing every match Luka watched or played with Luka, even when Luka talked over plays until his voice hurt. His sisters had home and away jerseys with Luka’s number on them for every season they’d been alive to watch him play--the first ones so small and cute Luka couldn’t believe they’d ever fit into them. 

His mom answered the phone, and when Luka said he had something he wanted to tell everyone, she got his dad from his office and put the phone on speaker. “Your sisters are out with their friends,” she said. “But please tell us your news!”

Luka walked past a group of people and felt a little ridiculous, grinning ear to ear and talking on the phone in a foreign language, but nothing could ruin this moment. “There’s a scout coming to watch me play tomorrow,” he said, and didn’t even have to finish the sentence before his mom was squealing and his dad was saying, “_Yes, _Luka!”

They started asking him a long list of questions, and Luka answered them as well as he could with the little bit of information Zidane had given him. They were still talking when Luka made it back to the dorm. He propped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he let himself in, flicking on the light. He knew Sergio had a class, so Luka wasn’t surprised to find the dorm empty. He couldn’t wait to tell Sergio, though--couldn’t wait for his reaction. Even though things were weird between them right now, Luka knew he would be almost as excited as his parents; almost as proud as Zidane had been.

Luka sat down in his desk chair and just smiled at the wall as he listened to his dad start telling Luka, for the thousandth time, how much he would love playing for Dinamo Zagreb. 

“Stop it,” his mom said, laughing. “Luka, you can play wherever you want.” 

His dad huffed, but seemed about to relent when he said, “Okay, but just think about it. You could meet a nice Croatian girl! Clubs like it when their young players settle down and start families so that they’re not out partying so much.”

Luka’s smile finally slid off his face as reality hit him. How had he gone through the last half hour without realizing that everything he was feeling so happy about was contingent upon him giving up the person who made him happier than anyone else in the world?

Luka ground his teeth. _ Would the scout still want to watch you if he knew you were gay? Would Zidane still be proud of you if he knew you were sleeping with your co-captain? _ he asked himself.

And then he told himself: _Yeah, m__aybe. _

He should have been used to hearing his parents say things about girls. But now, and when they were having dinner with him and Sergio, and every other time it came up, it _ hurt. _It shouldn’t have, maybe--it wasn’t like they were trying to hurt him, or like they knew the truth and were choosing to ignore it, or trying to change Luka. He knew they might do that, once they actually found out, but right now, in such an intimate, happy conversation, it hit Luka hard and hurt for another reason. 

It was like if his dad had suddenly forgotten his birthday or if his mom had forgotten his favorite food. It was something they should know about him, and it was wrong that they didn’t.

“I have to tell you something,” he said before he even thought about it.

“Something _ else_?” his mom said excitedly. 

“More good news?” his dad asked more cautiously, obviously hearing the serious tone of Luka’s voice.

Luka swallowed hard and didn't answer. He let out a breath that almost turned into a panicked, desperate sort of laugh before he bit it down. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a canyon and planning to walk off it. 

There was no good or easy way to do it. He _ shouldn’t _do it.

“I’m with Sergio--like, we’re dating--I mean, I’m in love with him.” His voice came out quick and loud and panicky. He felt light headed, and in his parents’ absolute silence, all he could hear was his heavy breathing. “I’m gay,” he added finally, his voice breaking.

He let the words hang in the air for a long time. He thought he heard his mom let out a shaky breath, and maybe heard the parting of one of his parents’ lips, or maybe it was just the white noise of the phone. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to go.” And then, because he was suddenly hit with the thought that maybe once he hung up the phone he would never get to talk to his parents again, “I love you.”


	17. Chapter 17

Sergio went to the library after class. He hated the library, which had buzzy and too-bright fluorescent lights and was always filled with stressed out looking people, which made Sergio feel stressed out, too. He hadn’t gone in weeks, because, in his opinion, the only reason people studied there instead of their dorm rooms was because they didn’t like their roommates. And Sergio--didn’t have that problem.

He _ wanted _ to run back to the dorm to see Luka, ask him what Zidane had wanted to meet with him about, touch him all over and suck his dick, tell him he loved him over and over until he was sure Luka believed him. 

Which was why he was in the library, pretending to work on a paper for his comm class. 

Space from Luka was the last thing in the world that Sergio wanted, but he knew Luka needed it, even if it was painful for both of them, and so he would give it to Luka, just like he’d give Luka anything in the world he needed.

And, sure, he’d thought that maybe Luka would listen to Sergio’s speech and hear Sergio tell him he loved him and then he wouldn’t need a break from Sergio; maybe he’d make up his mind and tell Sergio he was just scared before but that, of course, he loved him back and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But he knew Luka liked more time to figure things out, to sort through his feelings. And Sergio had already had years to get used to being gay, and out, and into other guys, while Luka had, clearly, not. 

So Sergio got that Luka wasn’t ready to talk to him. He’d stayed quiet and patient as he and Luka had sat next to each other during a break in training earlier. Had told Luka hi, and then been quiet and enjoyed just being near Luka, feeling happy that Luka had come to sit by him and not totally ignored him. But Sergio was bad at silence, especially when he had so much he wanted to say to Luka and so much he wanted to hear Luka say, and he didn’t know if he had the self-control to spend a night in the dorm alone with Luka and keep being the kind of guy Luka needed; keep giving Luka space to figure himself out. 

So he made himself stay away, until it was dark out and the library was about to close, and when he got back to the dorm, Luka was already asleep in his own bed, so Sergio collapsed into his bed and fell asleep, missing Luka’s lithe, cuddly body next to him. 

The next morning Sergio woke up before Luka, which didn’t happen much. He got ready for their match that afternoon, stealing glances at Luka as he slept, his face peaceful and his hair messy and soft looking and his thigh and arm peeking out from under his blanket. He tried not to be too creepy about it, but Luka’s body might as well have been made for Sergio, so it was hard not to stare too much. 

He kept expecting Luka to be awake when he glanced over at him; kept waiting to hear the quiet chirp of his alarm. 

But his phone didn’t go off, and he stayed asleep. Sergio let him sleep in as long as he could, but when there were only thirty minutes left before they had to be in the locker room, Sergio sat on the edge of his bed and put a hand on his shoulder and whispered his name. Luka jerked awake suddenly, like he always did, and then rolled over and blinked up at Sergio.

“Hey,” he said sleepily, his voice so low and gravely Sergio felt it in his balls. 

“Hey,” Sergio said. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Luka blinked once, confused, and then scrambled off the bed, mumbling out Croatian words that Sergio was familiar enough with to identify as curses.

Luka ran to the bathroom, threw his gear in his backpack, ran his fingers through his hair, and then stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, looking around, his eyes still looking sleepy.

“You’re usually more awake by now,” Sergio said, grinning at him from where he was standing in front of the door, leaning on the handle. 

Luka half-snorted, an adorable, sleepy sound Sergio had never heard from him before. He ran his hands over his face and then softly slapped his cheeks. “Okay,” he said, turning to Sergio, “let’s go.”

Sergio smiled and opened the door for Luka, and tried to breathe in the smell of Luka as he walked past. He thought, for a second, about the fact that Luka could decide that he actually didn’t want to be with Sergio, and his stomach and chest seized at the thought, painful and scary. So he made himself push it out of his head, and follow Luka, and just wait.

“What did Zidane want yesterday?” Sergio asked as they walked to the athletic building, hands stuffed in their pockets and breaths visible in the cold, still air. 

“Oh!” Luka said, suddenly looking more energetic. A smile crept across his face, even as he bit his lip to try to hide it, a move that made Sergio want to kiss him. He looked sideways at Sergio, his cheeks and nose red from the cold air, his eyes pale from the way the sun shone against them, his grin crinkling his cheeks. “There’s going to be a scout today,” Luka said, his voice mostly controlled but with a note of excitement that Sergio only noticed because he knew every look and voice and move of Luka’s. 

Sergio took a moment to stop staring at Luka and thinking about his voice and to actually understand what he’d said, and when he did, his face out broke in a grin that he really shouldn’t be giving Luka in public. Maybe shouldn’t be giving Luka at all, if Luka was going to decide that he didn’t want to be with Sergio after all; that Sergio saying he loved him was too much. But Sergio had never been good at hiding his emotions, so he couldn’t bite back a smile that would tell anyone looking exactly how much he loved Luka, and how happy Luka made him, and how fucking _ proud _ he was to even know Luka and to get to play with him. “ _ Luka _!” Sergio crowed. “That’s awesome!” 

Luka tilted his head, like he did when he was being shy about how good he was at football. “I think it will be good,” he said. 

“Babe, they're going to fucking _ love _ you,” Sergio told him, and Luka smiled and shrugged, tipping his head again, but Sergio could _ feel _the confidence coming off him in waves, and it made him way harder than he should be when they were walking on a public sidewalk and it was not even thirty degrees out. 

Sergio _ loved _ derbies. Obviously it was his first year with Crown, and he didn’t know a thing about the team they were playing, but the energy in the locker room and in the stands was intense and hot and fucking _ violent, _even though they were moving on to the post season, win or lose, and had nothing to play for.

“Ready to fuck these bastards up?” Karim asked Luka as soon as they got to the locker room. And Luka gave Karim this _ look, _intense and excited and gleeful, and it just fucking _ lit _ Sergio _ up _.

“Their striker is the biggest fucking asshole,” Dani told him. 

“Oh man,” Rafa said in agreement. “Don’t get into it with him or you’re going to get a red for sure.” 

“He put our captain last year out for a _ month,_” one of the sophomores said. 

Zidane walked them through some last minute tactics, told them the other team’s lineup, and then said, with more fire in his voice than Sergio had ever heard before, “I don’t want to beat them today. I want to_ embarrass _ them.”

The other team, Lake View, were wearing ugly kits with three mismatched shades of red: shirts with ugly black and bright red hoops, maroon shorts, and socks that looked like they’d faded in the wash so much they were almost pink. 

They were still not through to the postseason, so their game against Crown was their last chance to pick up points and move to the playoffs, and Sergio could tell they were as on fire for the game as his team was. 

Their captain was a tall, bulky defensive midfielder whose shirt said his name was Jones. When he and Luka met with the ref to shake hands, he loomed over Luka. Sergio could tell, because he’d done it a thousand times when he was defending smaller guys, that the guy was purposefully making himself bigger and more intimidating. When he and Luka shook hands, he slapped Luka on the shoulder, and Sergio could see from across the pitch that his huge fucking hand was too rough. 

Sergio wanted to break his fucking ankles. 

The whistle blew, and Sergio got distracted with Lake View’s striker, who was loud, mouthy asshole just like the guys had said, and was also quick and squirrely. He didn’t have time to watch Luka much, but whenever he did, Luka was doing something amazing. 

Jones was marking him closely, but Luka was just using it to show off his control and dribbling and turns and quick, precise passes. Sergio knew that Luka took every game seriously, even if it was meaningless or against a team that Crown really didn’t need to try that hard to beat. 

But he also knew that Luka was modest. Isco, one of the midfielders who started when Toni or Luka or Carlos needed rest, was always doing fancy turns and trying to dribble when he didn’t need to, and Luka had complained about him to Sergio more than once, grinding his teeth and telling Sergio, “He always needs to do a trick when I’m standing _ right there _for a pass.” Luka wanted the game to be simple, and one of the great things about playing with him was that he made it that way for everyone.

He still played like himself, even though he knew the scout was watching, even though the crowd was louder than it had been all season--but he also let himself show off a little, doing backheels to slip away from two guys marking him, making a crazy outside the boot pass to meet Karim behind Lake View’s defenders, turning with the ball under his foot and shrugging off three guys who tried to stop his run.

Luka got two assists in thirty minutes, and ten minutes before halftime, he scored his own goal. 

He made a run into the box with the ball, paused at the side of the six yard box, looked for Karim, who was being blocked by a defender, and then shot with the outside of his boot. 

If Sergio could watch a replay of the way the ball curved through two defenders, around the goalie, and into the net, it would make him fucking drool. _ Maybe later, _he thought, and then he was pushing into a sprint, running for Luka, who was leaping up by the corner flag, pumping his arms at the crowd of people screaming at him. 

Sergio caught him around the waist from behind, his hands scrambling as he tried to turn Luka toward him, and Luka wiggled out of Sergio’s grip and then spun and wrapped his arms around Sergio’s neck, putting his weight on Sergio’s shoulders like he wanted to be picked up, and so Sergio hooked his arms around him again and leaned back, taking Luka’s weight, listening to Luka’s breath in his ear, feeling Luka’s hair brush against his neck as he buried his head in Sergio’s shoulder. 

It was a moment he knew he would remember for the rest of his life. He’d celebrated goals with Luka before; had even picked Luka up during a celebration before. But for some reason, this moment felt essential and important and life changing, and Sergio felt, so, so in love. 

“Lukaaaaa!” the other guys were yelling around them, wrapping their arms around both Sergio and Luka. Sergio set Luka back on his feet and pulled back, and Luka gave him a quick, happy glance, his smile huge, before turning to hug Lucas and Karim. 

The rest of the half was easy and quick, and Crown came into the locker room still high from the goals, loud and excited and happy. Sergio felt fucking high on it. He couldn’t stop looking at Luka, watching as he changed into a shirt that didn’t have mud on it, running his eyes all over his ass as he bent to retie his boots, just staring at Luka’s face, satisfied and excited, as he sat on the bench and listened to Zidane talk them through the next half. 

The striker was back in Sergio’s space as soon as the second half started, talking and talking right in Sergio’s ear, and Sergio was turned to him, pushing him away, soft and casual, not enough to get a card, when the whistle blew. 

Sergio was mad at first, thinking the ref was calling a foul, even though they were nowhere near the ball, and then he saw Karim and the ref and Jones all standing at the top of the box, bent over, and then he saw Luka on the ground.

Sergio stumbled, his elbow still on the striker's chest, and then he ran. 

“Luka,” he breathed, shoving past Jones and the ref. Luka was on his side, his right leg pulled up close to his chest, his hands clutching at his shin, his face twisted in pain. Sergio crouched down and put a shaking hand on Luka’s hip. 

“Fuck,” Luka swore, groning and rolling onto his back. Sergio’s mind was roiling, furious and worried and ready to fight. 

“Did he foul you?” he asked, his voice hard, his eyes cutting sideways to Jones, who was standing talking to the ref, looking disoriented.

Luka watched his leg as he slowly stretched it out in front of him. “We just ran into each other,” he said, not looking at Sergio. He held his hand up and out, his palm up, and it took Sergio a minute to realize he wanted Sergio to help him up. 

Sergio stood up quickly and grabbled Luka’s arm, pulling him up slowly and careful so he could keep his leg on one foot. Luka put an arm on Sergio’s shoulder to keep his balance, and slowly started shifting onto his right leg.

He hissed in pain, flinching, and put more of his weight on Sergio.

Sergio looked to the sideline, feeling lost, and saw the medics waiting there. He twirled his fingers, making the motion for a sub, and the medics ran onto the pitch. 

“I’m fine,” Luka said harshly, his fingers digging so hard into Sergio’s shoulder it hurt. 

“Luka, come on,” Sergio begged. He wanted to carry Luka off the field and watch him get treatment and then tuck him into their bed and pet his hair until he fell asleep. 

“Just go get checked out,” Karim said, his voice even and logical. He patted Luka’s shoulder, and Luka heaved out a sigh, hanging his head. 

_ Anyone who watched that first half knows the player you are, _Sergio wanted to tell him. 

_ Please don’t hurt yourself anymore than you already are. _

Luka looked up at him, his weight still on Sergio’s shoulder, his eyes searching for reassurance. 

“You’re not going to miss the final,” Sergio promised him. He didn’t--obviously there was no way he could know, but if the world was fair at all and if there was anything Sergio could do about it, there was no way that Luka was going to be injured for another final. 

Luka blinked up at him, looking scared, and then he just nodded, his face clearing, like he trusted Sergio’s promise.

He propped his elbow on Sergio’s shoulder and pulled the captain’s armband off, then let go of Sergio and stood on one foot while he stretched the armband and held it out for Sergio to slip his arm into. Sergio did it, looking into Luka’s eyes the whole time. 

“Are you good?” Luka asked him, his voice still strained, as the medics took his weight onto their shoulders. 

“Yeah, baby,” Sergio said. 

Luka nodded, and then let himself be led off the field. Sergio watched--watched them take Luka past the sideline and all the way to the tunnel that led to the locker room, and it wasn’t until Luka was out of sight and Sergio turned to find Karim still standing right next to him that he realized what he’d just called Luka.

Karim was looking at Sergio, but his face was flat and calm. He slapped Sergio on the shoulder and told him, “He’ll be okay,” and then jogged away. 

If it was last year, Sergio would have shoved the guy who’d run into Luka to the ground, then kept fighting him until the got kicked off the pitch. If it was earlier in the season, he’d have gotten so distracted he couldn’t play. But he made himself breathe, slow in and out, the way he always saw Luka do, and then he made the team win for Luka.

Their room was dark except for the shine of the street lamp right outside their window when Sergio got back to the dorm. Sergio blinked to adjust his eyes, and found Luka sprawled out on his bed, ice wrapped against his thigh, his arm thrown over his head, wearing nothing but a pair of white briefs. His eyes were open and looking at Sergio with an expression Sergio couldn’t read.

Sergio dropped his bag and walked to Luka’s bed in two strides, feeling off balance in a way he wasn’t used to. He dropped himself down on the edge of the bed, facing Luka, one knee pulled up on the mattress next to Luka’s uninjured leg.

“Hey,” Luka said, his voice low and serious.

“Fuck,” Sergio breathed, running his hands down his face. “It freaked me out when you weren’t in the locker room. Zidane said you _ walked _back here? So then you’re--” He sucked in a breath, and his voice was fragile and scared when he asked, “Are you okay?” feeling totally unready to hear Luka’s answer if it was anything other than yes. Luka looked up at him, his eyes wet and wide and so open Sergio felt like he could see through him. Sergio tried to keep his face calm and comforting and not wild like he felt. If Luka couldn’t play in the final, he would--fuck, he would find Jones and--

"I'm gay," Luka said then. Sergio’s mouth popped open, and then he pulled it shut. “And it’s just a contusion.” Then Luka just looked up at him, his face a little tense, like he was waiting for Sergio’s response.

Sergio sort of wanted to cry. Luka had sucked his cock and swallowed his cum and begged for his fingers in his ass, and he’d done all of it so hungry and hot and desperate, and now he was saying _ I’m gay _ like it was a confession; like Sergio might not know; like it was _ new. _ “Baby,” Sergio said, trying to make his voice gentle. And then, "Yeah," in a voice that was still soft, but also said, _ duh_. 

Luka twisted his mouth and sat up further on the bed. He broke eye contact with Sergio, and Sergio leaned back a bit to give him space. “I never wanted to be, or to think that, or tell anyone,” he said, his voice slow and even, like he was reciting lines he’d thought out. “Because of my parents, and because I want to play football, and just _ because. _ ” Luka paused, and Sergio’s heart hurt for him, throbbed at the idea of the parents who Luka clearly loved and the sport that Luka and Sergio both couldn’t live without making Luka feel like being gay was wrong. “When you told me you were gay, I couldn’t believe someone like you could just _ say _that.” Luka pause. “Remember you told me you wanted me to feel safe with you?” He looked back up at Sergio, his eyes liquid and dark, and Sergio couldn’t make his throat work; couldn’t do anything but nod. 

Luka nodded back, and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, and then continued, his voice going a higher than normal, a little unsteady, and fast. “Well, I _do._ My parents coming scared me, and I might cry when we have sex again, because I’m still--new, I guess, and--I don’t want to _tell_ everyone, obviously, but--you are sonice to me and _so _good at sex and you make me have fun even when I feel terrible, and I'm.. so _proud_ of you and--” Luka’s voice, which had been getting gradually faster, cut off, and Luka took a slow breath, in and out. “After this please never make me talk again,” he said, deadpan, and Sergio wanted to laugh so loud the whole dorm could hear them, because he loved Luka’s simple, cutting little jokes and because he was pretty sure he knew where Luka was going, but he just sat and felt breathless and like he was floating off the mattress and waited, and Luka said, “Okay,” his voice quiet and steadier, more normal, his eyes glancing at Sergio and then away, unsure and fluttery. And then he said, “I love you too. I’m sorry I didn’t say it back right away.”

Sergio wished he was the type of person who could be calm after hearing that; could keep talking to Luka, helping him work things through, asking him more questions and triple checking that he was on the same page as Sergio was. 

But what he did was grab Luka’s face and pull him into a kiss that was so hungry and outrageous and frantic Sergio would be embarassed later, mumble, _ I love you _against his lips over and over and over again, yank off his own clothes and then take a moment to pull Luka’s underwear carefully down his thighs, gathering his thoughts just enough to glance up at Luka as he did so and ask, “Is this okay?”

“_Yes, _” Luka said impatiently, kicking his briefs off his ankles and pulling Sergio down on top of him. 

Sergio went where Luka wanted him; let Luka manuever them until one of Sergio’s legs was between his and one of his legs was between Sergio’s, his uninjured thigh pressing against Sergio’s cock. He humped up against Sergio’s leg, his cock hard and slick on Sergio’s skin, and shifted his leg against Sergio at the same time. Sergio heaved an open mouthed breath into the pillow beside Luka’s head. 

He shifted his thigh so it pressed even more firmly to Luka’s dick and kissed his way down Luka’s neck, over his shoulder, to the round bulge of his bicep, where he sucked a bruise.

“I love your arms,” he mumbled, biting the tendon that was sharply visible when Luka flexed. 

“_My _arms,” Luka scoffed. “Have you seen yours?”

Sergio bit Luka again, and Luka laughed at the same time as he thrust up against Sergio again. 

Luka in bed was like no one Sergio had ever been with, because in bed he was _ exactly _ the same as he was out of it: quiet, not talking a lot or making crazy noises like a porn star, never posing or moving just to try to make himself look good. He just did exactly what he wanted, and he did it simple and straightforward and single-minded, the same way he played football, only the goal was making himself and Sergio feel good. Other guys Sergio had been with had always had a layer of acting--like they were doing things they’d seen in porn, or trying to make sure they looked good, or saying things like “fuck me harder” just because it seemed like something they _ should _say. Luka was nothing but himself, honest and pure and hungry. Which worked so fucking great for Sergio, because Luka being himself was his favorite thing on earth. 

With Luka’s _ I love you _still bouncing around in his head and with a whole, real future sprawled out in front of them, plausible this time, and not just a crazy fantasy Sergio had made up, Sergio couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do with Luka. 

Like, introduce him to his family and get a dog with him and take him to his favorite restaurant in Spain, yeah, but also, because he had Luka naked under him and hadn’t been able to touch Luka in two days and hadn’t touched him at all when his parents were there last week, he was thinking about all the other kinds of things he wanted to do--like, get on his knees and suck Luka’s dick while he was wearing a Modrić jersey and Luka was still sweaty and musky from a match, spend hours in bed just eating Luka’s ass, fuck Luka so slow and for so long that Luka was crying, but in a good way this time. 

For now, though, he couldn’t take his hands or his mouth or his thigh or his cock off Luka for long enough to do anything fancy, and Luka seemed to feel the same. They kissed and licked and bit and thrust against each other, Luka carefully keeping his bruised thigh tilted off to the side, and when they came, shuddering and breathing against each other, Sergio said_ I love you_ and Luka said it back.

"We won right?" Luka asked a few minutes later, after they'd both caught their breath but before Sergio had gotten up to grab a towel to clean them up. 

Sergio pressed his face against Luka's chest and laughed. "Yeah," he said, kissing a spot over Luka's heart with lips stretched into a smile. "Six-nil."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥰🥰🥰


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry you had to wait so long for this update. This one is pretty long and kind of plot heavy. There are parts I really like and some parts I just couldn't figure out, but I think the sex scene here is my favorite one so far. I hope you guys like it. 😘
> 
> This whole work has ended up being so much longer than I expected, so I'm not totally sure, but I think we only have three chapters left. So, at the rate I'm going, this will probably be done like next year. 
> 
> I hope you guys are still enjoying reading!

Luka woke up gasping from a nightmare about sitting on the bench while Sergio let in goal after goal against a team wearing Barca kits but playing in their college conference final. They scored and scored and scored until the Crown players were just kneeling on the field with their faces in the dirt and Zidane was storming along the touchline screaming at the ref to just end the game already, and the whole time Luka could see exactly how to win but was trapped on the bench with his whole leg in a cast, just watching. 

Luka opened his eyes and squirmed and panted, feeling panicked and achy and _ warm, _and needed a minute to figure out where he was.

His wriggling woke Sergio up; made him shift and yawn loudly, and suddenly Luka felt grounded, realizing that he was pressed up against Sergio, his bruised thigh hiked up around Sergio’s hips. Sergio was lying on his side with an arm around Luka’s waist, it’s weight settling Luka into the mattress. 

Luka wanted to run, and, more than that, he wanted to never move. 

Luka had been too focused on making sure Sergio knew how he felt about him last night to get as upset as he normally would about the fact that he was injured and the championship final, if Crown even managed to get there, was _ three _ weeks and four games away. It was something he _ had _ to think about now, with sweat leftover from his nightmare drying on his chest and his thigh throbbing in a way he couldn’t push out of his mind for even a second. 

Luka could picture exactly how it would go if he missed the final: Crown wouldn’t play as bad as they had in his dream, obviously, and maybe they would even win. But either way, Luka would be sat on the bench fidgeting so much he’d chew a hole in his lip, feeling sick with longing and frustration and fear that if he didn’t win the final, he wouldn’t get a contract with a professional team. 

“Are you okay?” Sergio mumbled roughly, his eyes still closed, his arm tightening around Luka’s waist where Luka had tensed up. 

A year ago, Luka would have said, _ yeah _ and the truth would have been, _ no, no, no, no, no. _

Luka leaned forward to press his forehead to Sergio’s side, warm skin over firm muscle. “I’m going to be good for the final,” he said, his voice only a little bit unsure.

“Fuck yes, you are,” Sergio told him, pulling Luka even tighter against him, his voice like a promise.

It turned out that it _was _a promise, in Sergio’s mind. Sergio treated Luka’s recovery like it was personal. Like he needed Luka to get better almost as badly as Luka did, and like he could make it happen faster just by putting every bit of his focus into it. Like it was something he needed to give to Luka. 

Luka loved Sergio’s support. He _ needed _ it, because he was having one of the hardest weeks of his life. 

His leg hurt all the time. Thinking about the final made him so stressed he got the same nagging, dark urge to run that he’d had for so much of last year. He’d hung up the phone on his parents four days ago and hadn’t heard a thing from them since, which felt like all of Luka’s worst dreams coming true and made Luka want to cry if he thought about it too much. He had finals coming up he had no idea how to even study for. He knew that even if he did play in the final, it would be his last match with Crown; with a team he had come to love. 

If Sergio wasn’t there with Luka, cuddling him at night and pulling him into bed to watch football when Luka felt like his brain was going to melt if he spent any more time looking at textbooks and moving his leg through stretches like he was a fucking physical therapist, Luka would have lost his mind. 

Luka was required to work out in the gym instead of on the pitch for the first few days after his injury; doing exercises and stretches and strength training while a trainer watched and occasionally felt at Luka’s leg muscle to see how it was holding up.

Sergio should have been training with the rest of the team. Luka had no idea how he had gotten out of it and found himself in the gym alongside Luka, but on Luka’s second day of training, he just showed up, walked in like it was normal for him to be there and started spotting Luka and talking to him as he did his exercises. And Luka was never going to complain about having Sergio around, even if he was distracting. 

On his third day in the gym, and the last day before their first postseason match, Luka was doing slightly easier leg presses than he normally did; trying to take things slow and stay centered in his body so he could feel if his leg started to hurt in a way it wasn’t supposed to, and Sergio was standing at the foot of Luka’s machine, his eyes glued to Luka’s legs in a way that made it impossible for Luka to stay focused. 

“Will you take ten pounds off?” Luka asked Sergio, just to be sure he didn’t push himself too hard too fast. The need to get healthy as quickly as possible was like a physical pull in Luka’s chest, but he’d been here before, and he knew that pushing himself too hard would only lead to more injuries and a slower return. 

“Yeah, of course,” Sergio said, barely dragging his eyes off Luka to take one of the weights off the machine and put it back on the rack before he went right back where he started, to the end of the machine staring at Luka’s legs like they were the most interesting things in the world. Luka glanced down, taking in the pale skin of his thighs where his shorts had ridden up, the dark purple bruise high up on the inside of one leg, the curves of his calves. Then he looked back up to Sergio whose mouth was actually hanging a little bit open, his eyes distant and hot.

“_What, _” Luka finally asked. 

Sergio’s eyes moved languidly up Luka’s body. When he met Luka’s eyes, Luka felt it like a hand on his dick. Sergio licked his lips and said, quiet and low, “I want to watch you get yourself off,” and Luka’s face got hot so fast he felt like he could hear his blood rushing to his cheeks.

Luka’s leg gave a little as he settled the weights back into place, nerves and not injury, and then he just sat there, knees curled up close to his chest, leaning back on the hard leather of the seat. “Okay,” he said after a long moment, his voice coming out hoarse. 

Sergio’s lips curved into a smile so wide and toothy it made Luka breathless. Luka had never met anyone as _ happy _ as Sergio was practically all the time. Even at his best, Luka was moody and restrained, and he was pretty sure he’d never in his life _ beamed _at anyone the way Sergio was right now. 

“_Okay, _” Luka said again, exasperated, taking a foot off the leg press to kick gently at Sergio, “but just, stop looking at me like that.” 

That night, Luka was sprawled out naked on Sergio’s bed hoping Sergio never stopped looking at him. 

Sergio was lying fully dressed on his side next to Luka, his eyes so intent on where Luka had his hand wrapped around his dick that it gave Luka goosebumps. His palm was flat on Luka’s stomach, his fingers gently stroking the sensitive skin above his belly button. Luka was looking at Sergio’s face, taking in his hot, focused expression and reveling in the fact that it was because he was looking at Luka’s _ dick. _

Luka stroked his hand up and down his cock slow and trembling, so sensitive it almost hurt but so good he never wanted to stop. He’d only been touching himself for a few minutes, but he’d been hard since he’d left the gym with Sergio; leaking since they got into the dorm and Sergio ordered him to take off his clothes and get on the bed and start touching his cock.

Sergio was normally pretty vocal during sex, but after he’d told Luka what to do, he’d been quiet except for his heavy breaths. They were barely touching, but there wasn’t more than an inch between them at any point. Luka could feel Sergio’s breath in his hair, and he was gasping into the curve of Sergio’s neck as he looked up at Sergio, seeing how every move and sound of Luka’s made his eyes get hotter, until Luka felt like he was melting under them. 

Then, Sergio pulled his eyes off Luka’s cock and brought them to his face, and Luka had to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from coming.

“Hey,” Sergio said, his fingers soft on Luka’s stomach. “Want to try something?” Luka nodded desperately, _ yes, _ he wanted to try anything Sergio wanted. Sergio’s hand trailed lower, one finger circling Luka’s navel and then dipping inside, and Luka hadn’t thought he was sensitive there but the feeling made his hips twitch. “Have you ever fingered yourself?” Sergio asked, and Luka _ whined. _

“No,” he breathed out, his voice sounding needy and desperate in a way he wouldn’t have thought he was capable of before he met Sergio. 

“You want to?” Sergio asked.

Luka squirmed on the bed. Putting his own fingers inside of himself, in a place where only Sergio’s fingers had ever been before, felt monumental and scary like every other thing he’d done with Sergio so far. “_Yes,_” he said. 

Sergio grinned down at him. “Good. I’m fucking dying to watch you.” Then he rolled to his back and smoothly wriggled out of his clothes until he was as bare as Luka, his dick red and hard and shiny with precum that Luka wanted to lap up. 

“Hey,” Sergio said, flicking Luka’s chin, “don’t get distracted. I want you to focus on yourself, yeah?” When they’d first gotten together, the idea of focusing on his own pleasure and not on Sergio had made Luka feel panicky and awful. The idea of Sergio _ watching _him do it would have been too nerve-wracking for him to stay hard. 

Now, he told Sergio okay and laid there, naked and exposed, and waited and knew that Sergio would make everything okay for him. Sergio pulled lube out from under his pillow and wrapped his fingers around Luka’s wrist. He brought Luka’s hand to his face and kissed his palm, lowering his eyes and just holding his lips there, soft and plush on the crease of Luka’s palm, for a long moment. 

“I love you,” Luka said without meaning to. Sergio opened his eyes and looked at Luka so bright and happy that Luka couldn’t help but let more thoughtless words spill out of his mouth. “You're so perfect and you make me feel so lucky and I don’t know how I would have got through this week without you.”

“_I’m _lucky, Luka,” Sergio said slowly, enunciating carefully like he wanted to make sure Luka understood. 

Then he turned Luka’s hand over and spread lube onto Luka’s first two fingers. 

“Okay,” he said, bringing his face to Luka’s neck and pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss to Luka’s throat. He shifted on the bed, then, moving away from Luka and coming to settle between Luka’s thighs. He ran his palms up Luka’s legs, being careful not to put pressure on Luka’s bruise, and pushed his thighs further apart so there was room for Sergio to lie between them, then pushed one leg up over his shoulder, so that Luka was spread out and Sergio could see every piece of him from only a few inches away. 

Precum spurted out of Luka’s dick onto his stomach, his cock painfully hard and sticky wet. 

Sergio brought a few fingers up to tickle at Luka’s balls. “Think you can come from just your fingers?” he asked.

“Fuck,” Luka heaved out. “I think I can come just from _ this._”

Sergio smiled and kissed this inside of Luka’s thigh, then took his hand off Luka’s balls and brought it down, under himself, so Luka knew he was touching his own dick. “No way, babe,” he said. And then he just waited, his eyes looking up at Luka’s. 

Luka had been holding his hand up in the air since Sergio wet his fingers with lube, elbow propped on Sergio’s bed. His fingers shook as he brought his hand between his legs, using the leg wrapped around Sergio’s shoulders to pull himself up and shift to give himself better access.

His breathing was as shaky and fast as if they’d just finished having sex. He ignored his dick and balls and went straight to his hole, scared he would come if he so much as brushed over them. 

He knew what he liked when Sergio did this to him: the slow stretch as Sergio spread his fingers inside of his hole, the slickness of lube between his cheeks, a fast, constant rub of Sergio’s finger over his prostate. And his own fingers were a little smaller than Sergio’s, and the angle was a little trickier, but there was no reason Luka couldn’t do all that himself. 

So, he did--he dipped his fingers between his cheeks and rubbed over his hole, pushing harder than he’d thought he would need to, wriggling the tip of his finger and pushing out against it until his finger sunk inside of himself.

Sergio and Luka’s breath hitched at the same time. 

Luka dug his heel harder into the flesh of Sergio’s back, tipping his head back on the mattress, and he heard, in the quiet of their room, Sergio’s hand speed up on his dick. 

Luka didn’t move his finger for a long moment. Just felt it inside of himself, foreign but also familiar. He felt the tight, warm walls of his ass, and imagined how they felt for Sergio, around his fingers and his dick. 

He felt _ hot, _tight and sexy and like he owned himself and Sergio. 

And then he pushed further inside, curved his finger, and found his prostate. 

“Unh,” he said, undignified and loud. 

“_Luka, _” Sergio growled. 

Luka stroked himself, his mouth and eyes wide open, figuring out exactly what speed and spot and angle made him feel the most on edge, and then touching himself like that over and over again, until he felt like he was burning, as Sergio’s breath panted out against his thigh. 

“Fuck, Luka. Fuck fuck fuck,” Sergio said. 

“Sergio,” Luka breathed. “Sergio, please.”

“Can you come?” Sergio asked, sounding almost as out of it as Luka felt. _ Yes, _he wanted to say back, but was too breathless and close and amazed by how fucking good he was making himself feel that he couldn’t do anyhting but move his finger inside of himself and stare at the ceiling. “I’m about to come, babe, fuck you’re so hot. You want my mouth on your dick, or?”

Luka came, his ass clenching around his finger, his dick jumping and spurting on his stomach, his whole body twitching and tensing and feeling so good Luka thought he would die from it. 

Sergio swore, long and loud, and then pressed his face to the crease of Luka’s thigh and jerked his hips, fast and uncoordinated in a way Luka knew meant he was coming into his hand. 

Luka felt exposed and vulnerable and closer to Sergio than he'd ever felt to anyone; like all the doors between them had been blown open and then yanked off their hinges.

“_That, _” Sergio said immediately, before Luka had even started to come down, while he still had his own finger inside of himself. Then he seemed to lose track of what he was going to say, lifting his head off Luka's thigh and dragging his eyes all over him, ducking his head down to kiss Luka’s hand and then to lick cum off Luka’s abs. “We’re doing that again,” he finally said, sounding as amazed as Luka felt. 

“Uh huh,” Luka said. 

Their first match of the postseason was only four days after the end of the regular season. Luka was on the bench, obviously. He’d known he wasn’t going to be ready for the quarterfinals the moment he’d felt the pain in his leg. 

He wanted to be on the pitch, though, and not just because watching his team play without him made him feel like he had a hole in his stomach, but because they’d drawn Sergio’s old team, Vistas, in the quarterfinals, and he wanted to be next to Sergio on the pitch because he could see, even from the bench, that Sergio was off. 

Zidane had announced the draw during practice the day after Luka’s injury. Luka had been sitting on the sideline stretching. Vistas were from a different region, so Crown hadn’t played them before, but Luka recognized the name from reading about other top teams in the conference and from hearing Sergio talk about them a few times. 

His eyes went to Sergio as soon as he heard Zidane announce the draw, and he could see Sergio’s face, so expressive it sometimes made Luka blush, cloud over. 

Back in the dorm that night, Sergio had told Luka about his last season with Vistas, everyone playing and feeling like shit, Sergio getting red after red because he was so on edge and always doing desperate, last gasp defending, getting blamed for losses by his teammates and coaches. Luka buried his hand in Sergio’s hair and told him he was going to make Vistas look stupid for letting him go, and when Sergio smiled up at him he wanted to be able to play alongside him so bad it hurt. 

But Luka was on the bench, holding a cold water bottle against his bruise and shivering in the freezing December weather, and he watched nervously as Sergio wore the captain's armband and led Crown to a four-nil lead. 

Luka watched the first half in edgy silence. It wasn’t until the fourth goal came in the sixtieth minute that he finally let himself laugh along with the guys sitting next to him as Crown won what felt like their hundredth free kick. 

“Sergio’s going to get a hattrick,” Lucas joked, and even though Sergio hadn’t actually scored yet, it felt possible. Luka’s eyes were on Sergio and nothing else as he crowded into the box for the setpiece, shoving other guys out of his way carelessly. 

Toni sent a nice ball into the middle of the box, guys crowding around it, and Sergio jumped at the same time as a defender from the other team, and then they were both on the ground. 

If he was watching the game on TV, Luka would have been able to see what happened in slow motion, but as it was, he just had to piece it together from the split second of real time--Sergio jumping, and the other guy jumping too, both of them big and aggressive and going for the ball, and then their heads smacking together so hard they ricocheted off each other.

Luka stood up off the bench at the same time Sergio heaved himself up off the ground, shiny, bright blood pouring out of his nose and dripping onto his shirt, and started shouting down at the guy who he’d banged into.

The other guy, whose shirt said his full name, Alex Tomas, got up quickly and started yelling back, and then he and Sergio were shoving each other, both of them yelling so loud Luka could hear their voices but not their words, the crowd screaming as the fight worked them up, the rest of the players and the refs trying to pull them apart. 

They finally stepped back from each other, and Sergio spit blood into the grass at Alex’s feet and pulled his shirt over his head, and then the ref showed both Sergio and Alex red cards. 

Sergio and Alex stormed off the field still glaring at each other, and Luka made a lame, quick excuse to his trainers and teammates and ducked off to follow them down the tunnel, hoping they would think it was a normal thing for him to do, as captain. 

Luka’s mind felt chaotic and crowded as he jogged after the sound of harsh, loud voices. The flash of the red card, the way Sergio’s head bounced back when it hit the other player’s, the fact that Luka and Sergio would both be out for the next match, the red gush of Sergio’s blood. 

Sergio looked up at him as soon as he stepped into the locker room. He was sitting on the bench, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand, while Alex stood above him waving his arms and talking in fast, venomous sounding Spanish. For some reason Luka couldn’t understand, there was no staff person there to try to keep the two guys apart or guide them to their own locker rooms, and there wasn’t a medic to check out Sergio’s injury. The room was empty except for Sergio and Luka and the guy who had broken Sergio’s nose and gotten him a red card. 

Sergio’s eyes widened when he saw Luka, obvious enough that Alex stopped yelling at him and turned to see who’d come in.

“Oh, is this who you’re fucking now?” Alex said, his voice sharp and furious. “Bud,” he said to Luka, “trust me, you're too good for this guy. He'll fuck you and leave you whenever he gets tired of you, and he’s a fucking animal. 

Sergio flinched and looked up at Luka with wide eyes, his lips parting like he was ready to reassure Luka. 

Luka could explain to Alex how little his words mattered to him; how he'd worked past things much worse than a jealous ex in order to be with Sergio. But he didn’t care what the guy thought enough to struggle for words. Really, all he cared about was that Sergio was okay, and that he realized what he should have already known: that Luka _ knew _him--knew he was good and loyal and thoughtful and kind, and that he loved Luka. 

Luka didn’t even glance at Alex as he strode across the room to Sergio, his eyes intent on Sergio’s face. He tipped Sergio’s head back with hands on his cheeks, trying to stop the gush of blood. "Are you okay? " he asked Sergio softly, meeting his eyes and hoping Sergio could read him.

“Yeah, Luka,” Sergio said sincerely, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry I got a red.” 

Luka ran his thumb over Sergio’s cheekbone. Alex was seething next to him, his presence too furious to ignore. There was no one else in the room, but still, when he spoke, Luka felt like he was doing something monumental. “It’s okay,” he told Sergio. “I still love you.” 

Later, as they laid in bed in a hotel room, Sergio breathing loudly through his mouth and groaning about how bad his nose hurt, Sergio told Luka about Alex, and Luka told Sergio about injuring himself the year before. 

It wasn’t exactly something Luka wanted Sergio to know--he didn’t want Sergio to know how weak and dark and reckless he was, or had been and maybe would be again someday. But he couldn’t get it out of his head--the memory, and the feeling of missing the final, and the irrational, nervous fear that it might happen again. And talking to Sergio about things always made him feel better. And also, warring with the fact that he didn’t want Sergio to know bad things about him was the urge to tell Sergio every single thing about himself. The thought almost made him laugh--for most of his life, he’d wanted to keep everything he thought about secret and quiet, and it was like now that he’d told Sergio and his parents his one huge secret, maybe he would just want to say everything else he thought all the time, too.

And he also thought Sergio might like to hear it. Sergio had told Luka the whole story of his relationship with Alex as soon as they’d shut the door behind them--how they’d hooked up and then Sergio had realized that Alex was, in his words, “a fucking dick,” and had told him it wasn’t happening again, and how Alex had made him feel like shit about it all year, threatening to out him all the time, and how playing at centerback with Alex next to him had been miserable. He could tell Sergio was a bit ashamed of the story, that he felt bad about getting into it with Alex, and that he was nervous about Luka’s reaction to Alex’s words even though Luka could not care less what some random defender had to say about Sergio. Sergio, Luka thought, was feeling vulnerable in a way Luka almost never saw him. Luka could understand it exactly, because he would feel the same way if someone had laid out all the problems Luka had had last year out for Sergio to see. 

So he sat up off Sergio’s chest and glanced down at him lying on the bed, looking questioningly up at Luka and stroking a hand down Luka’s back. The hotel had one painting on the wall, a portrait of a cow’s face on a neon green background, and Luka’s eye kept catching on it, it was so weird and bright. He looked into the cow’s sad brown eyes as he told Sergio, “I injured _ myself _ last year.” 

Luka knew Sergio was frowning without seeing it. “What do you mean?” he asked, settling a palm on the small of Luka’s back, his hand warm on Luka’s bare skin. 

“I ran too much when we were supposed to be resting,” Luka mumbled in a rush, then swallowed and continued more carefully. “I was, um, depressed. It was just a bad semester all I ever wanted to do was run, and I ended up pulling a muscle in my knee. I think you kind of know this--” because Luka has mentioned it in passing a few times when they’re studying together or talking about grades-- “but I almost failed a bunch of my classes last semester. I had to talk to Zidane because of that, and he had me go to a counselor. I didn’t end up feeling better until this summer, really.”

Luka remembered the injury so vividly it made him shiver when he thought too much about it. He’d been running on the lake trail in early December. It was cold and snowy, and Luka had taken an exam earlier in the day that he was feeling terrible about. He was running, and running, and eventually his knee started hurting. He turned back when it did, and slowed down, but it was miles back to the dorm at that point, and if the injury hadn’t been too bad initially, it was by the time he got back; so bad he couldn’t walk up the stairs without holding half his weight on the railing and biting his tongue to keep from screaming because it felt like his knee was tearing itself apart. He got in the shower and ran hot water over himself to warm his frozen, tired muscles and wash cold sweat off his skin, and he shook like he was dying. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that, Luka,” Sergio said sympathetically, petting a hand over Luka’s hair. “How are you doing now?”

“I’m good,” Luka said immediately. “Way better. I don’t want you to worry about it or anything, I just... wanted to tell you,” Luka finished lamely.

Sergio sat up and cupped Luka’s face. “Thank you,” he said, looking at Luka with dark, liquid eyes, and then leaning forward to give him the softest, sweetest kiss. 

And Luka thought that if his parents could just see that--see the way Sergio held his face and kissed him like he was everything good in the world--that there was no way they could think this was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought! I love hearing your guys' feedback!!! 🤗


	19. Chapter 19

Sergio and Luka were usually fairly careful about sex as it related to their matches. They never really talked about it, but they both realized that they should probably stick to blow jobs or hand jobs the day before a game, so they wouldn’t end up sore or work themselves too hard. 

But they were both out for the second leg of the quarter final, and the night before the away leg, they got into their hotel room, looked at the two double beds, which were huge in comparison to their skinny dorm mattresses, turned to each other with identical looks on their faces--raised eyebrows and greedy, hot eyes, and then both cracked up at their matching expressions. 

After they’d calmed down, Sergio eyed Luka up and down and raised an eyebrow and said, “Okay, Luka, we can fuck if you promise you can keep it down so Karim and Rafa can’t hear,” nodding at the wall they shared with their teammates. 

Luka rolled his eyes as his dick hardened in his shorts. “I think I can handle it,” he said sarcastically, because_ obviously_ Sergio was the loud one. 

“Good boy,” Sergio said slapping him on the ass and grinning, and then stripped all of his clothes off faster than Luka thought possible. He stood naked and smiling and looked at Luka expectantly. 

Luka toed off his shoes and just let himself enjoy Sergio’s body--the flat slopes of his pecs, the ridges of his abs, the wings tattooed right above his dick, his big, dark cock and his heavy balls, which Luka wanted to get his mouth all over. 

They made out, Sergio holding himself above Luka where he was sprawled out on the bed. Sergio's tongue eager and curious, licking at the roof of Luka's mouth and the sides of his lips, running over his teeth and then pressing into his canines, like he needed the sharp push of them; like he wanted to split himself open on Luka, which was pretty much exactly how Luka felt.

Luka squirmed, and his hole felt so empty that it was clenching on nothing, squeezing over and over like that would maybe help get something in it. So, he did something he’d been thinking a lot about.

He loved when Sergio talked to him in bed. The dirty and sweet and needy things Sergio said made his cock ache and his chest feel full and heavy. And Sergio was always trying to get Luka to talk a little more, to be more open and comfortable.

“I really want you inside me,” he told Sergio, his voice so, so low. Luka wasn’t ever going to be as good at this as Sergio, he was sure: due to lack of creativity, if nothing else. But he could be honest, even if it made him blush all the way down his neck. 

“Fuck,” Sergio swore loudly, dropping his head low on his neck so his nose was pressed against Luka’s shoulder, the arms holding him up shaking slightly. “You can’t _talk like_ _that_,” he said against Luka’s throat, making Luka snort a laugh at him. He patted Sergio’s back comfortingly. 

“Um, please?" he finally added, after Sergio just stayed there, hovered above Luka, breathing heavily into his neck while Luka’s dick leaked and his hole twitched.

Sergio sighed one more time and then pushed himself up to look down at Luka, shaking his head, his expression serious and hungry on Luka’s face. “Okay,” he said. And then, “Wanna try something?”

_ Something _ended up being Luka getting on all fours and arching his back, waiting for Sergio’s fingers, and then letting out the craziest sound when Sergio traced the tip of his tongue over Luka’s rim. “Oh, oh,” Luka moaned, voice high in his throat and definitely not quiet like he’d promised Sergio he’d have no problem being. Sergio pulled back for a second, and Luka thought he would die if he didn’t get to feel more of Sergio’s mouth on his ass, because he’d barely even had time to think about how good it felt yet, and Luka was about to whine at Sergio, or tell him it was okay if he wasn't into this, or press his hips back toward his mouth, or ask if he could go shower for a couple hours before they went any further, or just start crying, but Sergio just gently shushed Luka before burying his face back between his cheeks. 

And then Sergio gave Luka plenty of time to figure out exactly how good it felt to have the point of Sergio’s tongue drawing patterns on his rim, teasing it; there and then gone and then _ pressing inside,_ fuck fuck fuck_. _

Luka bit the pillow under his face, clenched his fists in the blankets, and squeezed his ass around Sergio’s tongue, which was making circles inside of him like Sergio wanted to feel and taste every single inch of Luka’s body. 

It wasn’t a feeling Luka could explain in a way that made sense, even to himself. It was just close and wet and shocking and so humiliating it throbbed through his whole body, warm and tingly, and it made Luka feel like he was being worshiped, like Sergio would do anything for him, like he was clean and sweet. 

“_Sergio,_” Luka keened, because Sergio couldn’t just do this forever or Luka would die. 

“Gonna get you all hot and wet for my cock,” Sergio said against him, his voice slurred because he didn’t pull his tongue back into his mouth, and Luka muffled a whine into the pillow. Sergio brought one hand up to squeeze at Luka’s balls, kneading them in his palm, at the same time he pressed a finger into Luka alongside his tongue. 

Luka felt an orgasm building, heat and sensitivity and pleasure up from his balls to the head of his cock, making him shake. “I’m gonna come, uh, I’m--”

“Uh-uh,” Sergio said, soft but firm. “Wait for me.”

And without even thinking about it, without even knowing it was something he could do, Luka _ did. _He didn’t come; he just stopped, right on the edge so the feeling of the almost-orgasm was still coursing through him, and waited as Sergio licked him and stretched him, eventually adding lube, and refused to do more than brush just his palm over the head of Luka’s dick, smearing precum. 

“Ready?” Sergio said after Luka was sure he’d been eating at Luka’s ass for hours. 

“Yes,” he said quickly, and then clenched the pillow, now wet with spit and maybe tears, back between his teeth. 

Sergio pulled away, and Luka just closed his eyes and waited, not even feeling the shift of the mattress, not even sure where Sergio was or what he was doing, he was so out of it. 

“C’mere,” Sergio said, and then his hands were pressing Luka’s hips, and Luka rolled onto his back, pliant and limp, without a thought. Sergio touched his knee and Luka’s thighs dropped apart, spread around Sergio’s thighs. Sergio was looking down at Luka, his eyes everywhere, his mouth wet and red and his hair a fucking mess. 

“I need the pillow,” Luka said, because Sergio was barely touching him and he already didn’t know how to keep quiet.

Sergio grabbed Luka’s hips and pulled, shifting Luka down the bed and then lifting so his ass was propped up on Sergio’s thighs. He brought his hands to the backs of Luka’s knees and pushed them sideways, sliding his hands up and squeezing at Luka's thighs. He was all bronze skin and dark grey ink above Luka. "You're so hot," he said, the words dropping out of his mouth syrupy and thoughtless, like he was drunk.

"You too, Luka," Sergio told him. Then he leaned down, and his lips were on Luka's again. “We’ll keep each other quiet,” he whispered, and then he slid his dick into Luka all at once and bit down on Luka’s bottom lip at the same time.

Luka couldn’t do anything but wiggle underneath Sergio and press his heel hard into the small of Sergio’s back make sounds into Sergio's mouth and bite both of their tongues and dig his fingernails into Sergio’s shoulderblade as Sergio thrust hard into him, always at exactly the right angle, _Sergio Sergio Sergio._

It was rougher than they’d ever been with each other, and Luka thought about the first time he’d been with Sergio, when he’d thought he felt taken apart and Sergio told him he felt upside down, and he felt all that and also like he was perfectly together and right side up when he hadn't even realized he'd been upside down before. “I love you,” he said on Sergio’s lips, and then he said it over and over and over, as Sergio fucked him and wrapped his hand around Luka’s dick, and as he came into Sergio’s palm and Sergio came inside of him. 

“Can’t believe we haven’t _ done _that before,” Luka panted afterward, when they were both lying on their backs, covered in cum and sweat and spit. 

Sergio chuckled from beside him, his lips wet and red and his arms flung out to the sides like he was totally sated and too tired to move. “Babe, I know,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve been thinking about it forever, but I didn’t know if you’d be into it.” 

"I'm into it," Luka said, and then blushed. 

Sergio hummed happily and buried his face in Luka’s neck, wrapping his arms around Luka’s waist. Luka put his arms tight around Sergio’s shoulders, pulling him closer against his chest, and then he was kind of holding Sergio. It was a little backwards, Luka thought for a second--he was usually the one with his head under Sergio’s chin; Sergio was usually the one pulling him in and making him feel safe and taken care of. Ever since he’d known Sergio, Luka had felt like he was delicate and fragile, while Sergio was strong and sturdy. But--there was no reason that had to keep being true, he realized now. Because, when he thought about it, he didn’t feel breakable anymore. He felt sturdy and strong and like...like even if he didn’t play in the final, even if he didn’t get a contract with a pro team, even if his parents never called him back, even if his injury never healed and he never played _ again, _he would be--basically, eventually, after he’d cried and thought about it a lot and let Sergio hug him for a really long time--okay. 

***

The next morning, while the rest of the team was warming up and Sergio and Luka had nothing to do but sit in their hotel room, Sergio told Luka he wanted Luka to meet his parents over Skype. 

“I told my dad about you forever ago,” he said. “And I talk about you all the time, so they already like you.” 

“Uh,” Luka said. “Okay.” 

“If you don’t want to, I get it. You can say no.” Luka wasn’t sure what he wanted--meeting new people had always made him uncomfortable, and talking to Sergio’s parents when they knew about him and Luka was kind of scary, and also, what if Sergio’s parents didn’t like him or if he said something wrong or--Sergio ran a hand over Luka’s head, looking intently at him from where he laid next to Luka in his bed. “Hey, don’t stress out. It’s not a big deal. I’ll just tell them you’re not ready or we’re busy or something.” 

Luka traced his tongue over his teeth. “No,” he said, “I want to meet them.” And part of him really, really did. He wanted to know more of Sergio, to get deeper into Sergio’s life, to finally see and talk to the people he’d heard so many stories about. 

Sergio smiled. “Okay babe,” he said, and they got out of bed and went to their seperate sides of the room to get dressed. Luka looked at himself in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair and looking for bruises on his neck that he knew weren’t there and trying not to be too paranoid about whether Sergio’s parents would be able to tell from looking at them that they’d had sex the night before. 

Sergio appeared in the mirror behind him, and Luka was already halfway to melting into the hug he expected when Sergio wrapped a rough arm around his waist to hold him still and pulled a shirt down over his head, making everything dark for a second as his face was wrapped in cloth. Luka laughed, surprised, and squirmed and tried to push at Sergio. When Sergio yanked the shirt down and Luka’s head popped out of the neck, his hair was messy again and he had a Real Madrid jersey that he could already tell was way too big for him hanging around his neck. 

“I am _ not _wearing that,” Luka said, shaking his head at Sergio in the mirror and jabbing and elbow into his chest. When he glanced at himself in the mirror, he had a huge, toothy smile on his face that matched Sergio’s. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to give you an easy way to make them like you,” Sergio said. “Not going to throw you under the bus and tell them you hate their favorite player like you did with your mom and dad.” 

Luka’s stomach twisted. His parents had already met Sergio--they’d been in this dorm with him, had sat at dinner with them, and Luka had pretended that Sergio was nothing to him. And when his parents had learned what he and Sergio really were, they’d had nothing else to say to Luka--it had been a week now, and he still hadn’t heard from them. Luka’s smile had barely even started to drop when Sergio said, “Shit, I’m sorry,” and turned Luka into his arms, wrapping him up in a hug. 

Luka had told Sergio about his conversation with his parents the day after he told Sergio he loved him. Sergio had been furious, Luka could tell--he’d clenched his teeth and looked at the wall behind Luka with vicious, hot eyes. But then he’d shifted his jaw and looked down at Luka, and suddenly his eyes were soft and loving and _ wet, _which made Luka lose his breath. He’d cupped Luka’s face in both his hands and pressed kisses to Luka’s cheeks and nose and lips and forehead, and then he’d just tucked Luka’ head under his chin and held him, his arms around Luka’s shoulders, and Luka let himself be held; flattened his palms on Sergio’s pecs and breathed warm and wet against Sergio’s chest. 

He did the same thing now. He was getting almost too good, he thought, at letting Sergio wrap him up and make him forget all the things he should be worrying about. But Sergio’s chest was so solid, his skin so warm, and the words he mumbled against Luka’s hair were too good to fight against. 

“You are _ perfect, _ ” he told Luka now. “I _ know _ your parents love you.” He paused, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with feeling. “But even if they never get their heads out of their asses, I will _ always _be here, and I promise I’ll be everything I can for you.” 

Luka squeezed his eyes shut. Sergio _ was _ everything. He pushed his face so tight against Sergio’s shoulder that his next words were muffled. “I would do everything I did with you this semester again even if I knew this would happen with my parents.” It wasn’t really a huge statement--he’d done everything this semester knowing almost for sure that his parents wouldn’t love him anymore if they knew he was gay--but Sergio let out a shuddery breath and dropped his forhead to Luka’s shoulder like he needed to be even closer to him. Luka stood still for a moment, wrapped up and pressed against Sergio. Then he patted his ribs and pushed himself gently out of Sergio’s arms. He’d spent so much of his time with Sergio so far feeling agonized and torn and angsty and guilty, but he’d pushed through all that so that they could be _ happy. _ Their future was going to be--not easy _ , _ maybe, but good and steady and _ together _. Luka was ready for that; was ready to feel settled and safe and like no matter what happened, if Sergio was okay, he was okay. “Let’s call your parents,” he said, enjoying the beaming smile Sergio sent him. “I’m not wearing this garbage, though,” he added, pushing Sergio’s Real Madrid jersey over his head and dropping it meaningfully on the floor while glaring at Sergio in the mirror. 

Once they were dressed, Sergio sat down at the wooden desk in the corner of the room and opened his laptop. Luka walked over and stood awkwardly next to him for a second before Sergio pulled him down onto his thigh and wrapped his arms around Luka’s waist, pulling him close and hooking his chin around his arm so he could look at his laptop screen. He ran a big, warm palm up and down Luka’s abs and chest, and just waited for a moment, and Luka felt himself slowly sink into Sergio; leaning back against his chest and spreading his legs a bit so he was balanced with Sergio’s thigh between his legs.

“Are you good?” Sergio asked, rubbing the side of his head against the bare skin of Luka’s arm below his shirt sleeve. 

Was he _ good _with sitting in Sergio’s lap, wrapped up in Sergio’s arms, so there was no question about anything between them, the first time Sergio’s parents met him? “Will they be...okay with it?” 

“Yes,” Sergio laughed. “My family is more affectionate than you’re used to, I think. If we answered and we weren’t touching they would be like--” Sergio made his voice higher and put on a thicker Spanish accent than he normally spoke with, clearly imitating his mom-- “‘Sergio, what did you do to make him break up with you?!’”

So Sergio called his parents, and Luka met them, there on Skype. They were sitting so close together their cheeks were almost touching, both of them already wide eyed and beaming when the video of them pulled up. “Hello, Luka!” Sergio’s dad said right away, loud and guileless in a way that reminded him of Sergio. “Hi!” his mom added, waving and leaning even closer to the camera, her eyes tracking over Luka’s face. Luka squirmed a little and said hi, and they made introductions and a bit of small talk in stilted, bad English before Sergio’s parents switched to Spanish and Sergio started translating. 

They asked questions, and Sergio told Luka what they had said even when he already knew the answer. “They want to know your favorite team,” he said after a long flurry of both his parents talking over each other. 

“Um,” Luka said, looking back and forth between Sergio’s gentle, encouraging smile and his parents’ expectant faces. “Well, Zagreb,” he finally said to Sergio.

Sergio turned to the camera. “He said Barca,” he told his parents, who both gasped. Luka elbowed Sergio, shaking his head desperately at his parents. 

“No no no,” he reassured them, waving his hands. “Not Barca!” All three Ramoses started laughing, then. Luka turned to Sergio, who was cracking up. “You said you weren’t going to do that to me!” he said, feeling slightly betrayed. 

“That was before you threw my jersey on the floor,” Sergio shrugged.

All in all, the call went okay. Luka didn’t think he said anything too embarrassing, and if he did, he hoped it got lost in translation. When they had both said bye to Sergio’s parents and promised to talk soon, Luka slammed Sergio’s laptop shut and turned on Sergio's lap to look up at him. 

“Do you think they liked me?” he asked nervously, holding his face close to Sergio’s so he would see his eyes twitch to the side if he lied. 

“_Obviously _,” Sergio said, bringing his hands up to cup Luka’s hips. He looked up at Luka like he was proud to have him there, on his lap, and then leaned in to kiss him so thoroughly Luka basically had no choice but to get down on his knees and suck his dick. 

***

Luka was glad he didn’t have to play in the game that night--and that was maybe the first time in his life he’d ever thought that--because he was a bit sore from being fucked the night before. Nothing too bad, but just achey enough that he had a constant reminder of the stretch of Sergio’s cock inside him.

Luka and Sergio sat in the bench during the match, tracking everything on the field and mumbling comments to each other. 

“Isco has been playing good,” Luka said.

“He’s not you,” Sergio told him, sounding like Luka complimenting Isco personally offended him. 

“Eh, this fucking ref,” Sergio called later, when the referee didn’t call a bad tackle on Karim.

“That was definitely a foul,” Luka nodded. 

Vistas had to overcome a six goal lead if they wanted to move on to the next round, which both teams knew was basically impossible. The game was slow and listless, and Luka felt confident enough in the result to relax a little bit, slumping back in his seat next to Sergio and taking a few sunflower seeds out of the bag Sergio offered him. 

Watching his team play forced Luka to think about a fact he’d been trying to ignore: that Luka would only ever get to play one or two more matches with the guys who had become _ his team _over the last few years.

Luka’d never really _ had _a team before--he’d played football all his life, with tons of different guys, but he’d always moved around between clubs and academies and levels, his parents always looking for the best coach and environment and location for him. He’d been with some of the guys at Crown, like Zidane and Karim and Carlos, for four years, which was about as long as he’d ever played with anybody. And there were younger guys on the team, like Isco and Mateo, who he had only known for a year or two but who felt like his younger siblings or something. Luka was going to miss playing with them; playing on the Crown field he’d gotten so used to, in front of the small but passionate crowd of students that came to all their games. 

But thinking about it made him sad, so he tried to push it out of his mind and enjoy watching the team and thinking, _ That’s my team. I’m their captain, _and feeling like a proud father. 

They got through to the semi-finals with a 2-1 loss, and Luka and Sergio and everyone else on the bench sprinted onto the field to celebrate with the guys who had played, jumping and yelling and crashing into each other in big, sweaty group hugs. 

***

Back in their hotel that night, the window to register for classes next semester opened. Luka and Sergio both got emails about it, and Luka thought of the meeting he had with his advisor weeks ago; distantly remembered her talking him through which classes he still needed to graduate and which electives she thought he would like. 

“What classes are you taking next semester?” he asked Sergio, who was sitting next to him on one of the beds, his laptop open on his thighs. 

“Fuck, I have to take these two marketing classes everyone says are terrible, so then I think I’ll just do some easy ones.” 

Luka shifted on the bed, scrolling through electives. “Like what?”

Sergio squinted at him, his smile curving up. “You want to take classes together, Lukita?” 

Luka rolled his eyes. “Just so it’s easier for you to help me do homework.” 

Sergio scooted closer to Luka on the bed so they could see each other’s laptop screens. “Okay, well, since _ you _asked, there’s this sports marketing class that I actually think you would really like, and it’s way below the level of marketing courses I’m supposed to be taking but that just means I’ll be a great tutor for you, right?”

And then Sergio and Luka signed up for three of the same classes, which was so domestic and coupley that Luka almost couldn’t believe it. 

Luka found the note his advisor wrote him with the two classes he was required to take and added them to his schedule, and when he looked at Sergio’s schedule, Sergio had added four more classes. Luka frowned, and Sergio noticed and said, sounding shy, “Um, I thought I would do overtime, maybe, so I could graduate a little early. I took classes online this summer, so I think I could get done after next fall. And then--” he paused, looking at Luka guaginly, “We don’t have to be apart for that long.”

Isco and Dani and Rafa talked sometimes about being chill--they didn’t want to text the girlfriends their with back too quick because it wasn’t _chill_, or they freaked out when girls wanted to spend too much time with them because ‘they had no _chill._’ He and Sergio’s thing, Luka thought, was not at all chill--they were signing up for classes together, and basically planning their lives together, and he’d met Sergio’s parents, and they’d been sharing a bed for--fuck, _months--_and Sergio told Luka ‘I love you’ every night before they went to sleep, and Luka always said it back, and Sergio had had his _tongue _in Luka’s _ass_\--So, basically, Sergio telling him that he didn’t want to be away from Luka for an entire year was not shocking. The thought of being apart for even a semester made Luka feel wobbly. So there was no reason Sergio should be shy about this, unless he thought, somehow, that Luka still wasn’t sure about things. That he wasn’t planning to spend the money from the first paycheck he--hopefully--gets to buy a house for him and Sergio. “Why don’t you add seven more, then, so we don’t have to be apart at all?” he said, and Sergio blew out a breath and relaxed his shoulders and looked at Luka like he was the best thing in the world. “I love you,” Luka told him, holding his eyes, to make sure he definitely _got_ it. 

“I love you too,” Sergio breathed, sounding amazed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter! 😀 What did you think???


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all staying healthy, happy, and safe.
> 
> I know this is a stressful time, so I hope this chapter brightens your days a little!

“We can beat them,” Sergio told Luka confidently as he bent down to yank his socks up above his knees.

Luka hummed and let himself look at Sergio’s ass a little, and then looked away and shut that part of his mind off so that it was just _football. _“Everything’s going to happen in midfield. We need to build our attacks there, and we need to be good on counters.”

“We will,” Sergio soothed. “You’ll cover for me during setpieces, and you’ll see their plays coming.” 

Luka chewed his bottom lip. “You have to keep the back line organized.”

Sergio reached over and tugged a lock of Luka’s hair. “Stop stressing out. We _have _this.” Luka tipped his head to the side to acknowledge Sergio’s words, but he would never have the same brave, reckless confidence that Sergio did. 

And Luka’s nervousness wasn’t unfounded--Crown had gotten through the semi finals without Luka, but _barely _. Sergio had been back for both legs of the semis, but even with him on the pitch, the games had been nervy and close, filled with missed chances from both sides. Crown had lost the home leg 2-1 and come back to win 2-0 in the second leg, and Luka had spent all 180 minutes on the bench sweating and shaking and biting his tongue till it bled.

Luka had already been training with the ball before the second leg, but Zidane hadn’t wanted to risk him playing before he was ready, and Luka had reluctantly agreed. He felt fully fit now: no pain in his leg at all; nothing pulling when he ran. He was ready to play in the final--in this huge fucking stadium towering around him like a mountain range, full of people finding their seats or sitting down already with their eyes glued to the field where both teams were warming up; full of jerseys the same color as Luka’s.

“Babe,” Sergio said, grabbing Luka’s shoulder and kneading his thumb there, waiting. Luka drug his gaze away from the rows and rows of seats, over the bright grass of the field, up to Sergio’s eyes.

It reminded him of the first time he’d gone to the ocean: it was like getting hit by a wave, pushed under the surface and drug along the sand, resurfacing spitting water and shaking his hair and laughing so hard he couldn’t do anything but happily wait for another wave to hit him. Luka realized, and he didn’t know how he hadn’t thought about it before, but all at once he realized that this was the last real game he’d ever play with Sergio. With Karim and Toni and Rafa and the whole rest of the team, yeah, but mostly, with _Sergio, _who had made football, along with every other part of Luka’s life, more real and happy and vivid and bright than Luka had ever thought it could be. 

Sergio moved his hand to Luka’s neck, his fingers just brushing the ends of Luka’s hair. 

“Tell me you know we have this,” he said, his eyes searching Luka’s.

“I _swear _we’re going to win,” Luka said, his voice low and thick, his accent strong, his throat clogged with emotion. “I promise you’ll get to lift the trophy.” 

Sergio smiled this fierce smile that Luka could--wanted to--was _going to _spend the rest of his life looking at. “Fucking _right _, babe.” 

Luka scored nine minutes into the first half. 

The game was intense: the other team pressing so close Luka could feel hot breaths on his neck; blue shirts surrounding him whenever he got the ball, choking everything out of him--every thought of the crowd and the trophy and all the tactics Zidane had talked through before the game--until he was just cleats sinking into the pitch, the ping of the ball off his feet, and ten other guys he would trust with his life. 

The goal was too easy--a mishit pass that fell to Toni, and Toni was turning and passing it forward into Luka’s path, and Luka was slipping past the last two defenders, and once he was one on one with the goalie it was easy to pick his spot, feint, and then put it in at the far post.

The crowd was so loud at first that Luka didn’t hear the whistle, but then he did, and turned to the linesman, jaw dropped, to see the flag up.

"He's never been offside in his life!" Sergio was yelling from a few meters back, right in the refs face. 

“No way,” Toni said disbelievingly as he jogged up to Luka. He patted him twice on the back, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the ref as Luka just stood staring at the linesman. “You’ll get another chance.”

And Luka didn’t, really--he got pushed further back into the midfield, had to defend and make passes from deep, but eventually, deep into the second half, Crown scored. Luka sent a long ball forward for Dani to run onto, and then Dani crossed to Karim, and Luka froze, watched, his hands up in the air, as Karim jumped and then headed the ball hard past the goalkeeper. Luka sprinted forward screaming, the crowd roaring, everything loud loud loud, and then he was slamming into the bodies of his teammates, all yelling and piled together on top of Karim. 

“Fuck yes!!” Sergio was roaring down at Karim, and as Luka joined the pile of bodies, he looked over and caught Luka’s eye and Luka gave him a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.

They won the game, and Luka got a medal hung around his sweaty neck and then got handed a big, heavy trophy that he got to carry up onto a podium, into the crowd of his teammates. Got to hold while the crowd high up above him in the stands and his teammates all around him and Sergio right up against his side wiggled their hands and slowly raised their voices. Luka waited, breathed deep, and then heaved the trophy above his head; listened to everyone around him scream, and then joined in and yelled until his throat hurt. 

***

Twenty four hours later, Luka had a bottle of beer in his hand and a fake smile hurting his cheeks and Sergio crouching at his feet, petting Zidane’s big, curly haired dog and talking to it in Spanish. 

Zidane always hosted a part at the end of the season. Last year, a week after they’d lost in the final, it had been depressing. Everyone drinking and eating and laughing, but with this feeling underneath that they’d missed out on something. 

This year, everyone was rowdy and fun and happy and _drunk. _There was beer everywhere, and no one telling the underage guys not to drink it. Most guys had brought their girlfriends, and people were milling around, relaxed and cocky. 

Luka appreciated the atmosphere, and his teammates’ laughter and jokes and slaps on the back had a comforting familiarity, but he couldn’t stop looking around and thinking that he would never have this again. That at the end of the night, he would have to say goodbye to this. 

“Luka, say hi!” Sergio said, smiling gently up at Luka from where he was sitting flat on the ground with the dog on his lap, holding its paw up and making it wave at Luka.

Luka crouched down and held his hand out for the dog to sniff, then ran his palm over it’s soft head. “Hey boy,” he said, smiling, but even he could hear how sad his voice sounded. 

“Honey,” Sergio said, frowning at Luka. Luka kept his smile on and tried to make it a bit more genuine as he met Sergio’s eyes, hoping he looked reassuring. 

“Let’s get food,” he said, pushing himself up. 

Sergio gently moved the dog off his lap, giving him one more pet and a fond look before reaching a hand up for Luka to pull him up. He followed Luka to the kitchen, where the island was piled with food. He and Luka filled up their plates and then wandered into the living room, where Sergio pulled a pillow from under Lucas’ elbow, making Lucas list dramatically to the side. Sergio threw the pillow on the ground, laughing and rolling his eyes at Lucas, and then sat down next to the pillow and patted it, looking up at Luka with his big eyes. 

Luka thought maybe the other guys would think this was weird. That it was strange for Sergio to make a place for Luka to sit, and for Luka to look down at him so softly, to settle onto the pillow so close next to him. But Luka spent enough time holding back from Sergio; from himself, so he sat down and leaned so close to Sergio that so their arms touched, and then just stayed there, and ate, and listened to his teammates talk. 

One of the freshmen was recounting Karim’s goal while Karim sat sprawled out and smiling, quietly loving the attention. “And that pass from Luka,” Dani said, turning everyone’s attention to him. 

Luka blushed and dropped his eyes to his lap, then took a deep drink of his beer. 

“And that fucking call from the linesman!” Sergio said, and then everyone was talking about how totally onside Luka was for the goal that was ruled out, and then about why all the other calls that went against Crown were unfair, too. Luka looked sideways up at Sergio and gave him this smile that he hoped no one else saw, because even if he wasn’t going to keep pretending, he didn’t want everyone on his team to see the bare, sappy affection that he couldn’t keep off his face as he mouthed, “thanks,” up at Sergio. 

Sergio smiled down at Luka and reached over to ruffle his hair, and then they both went back to eating.

After everyone finished eating, they started focusing on drinking. They mingled around, talking about the team and their finals and introducing their girlfriends to guys who hadn’t met them. Zidane was there, but on the edges, talking mostly to his wife and just watching the team with a small half smile on his face. 

Luka and Sergio wandered around together, talking to their teammates and drinking until Luka was pretty sure they were both well past buzzed. Sergio got louder when he drank, goofier and more affectionate. He slung an arm around Luka’s shoulders and then left it there, and when other guys from the team walked past him, he pulled them into his other side. 

Luka loved being held close to Sergio, loved standing next to him and talking to people together, like they were a unit. Luka loved his team, but these parties had always made him a little anxious. He was never sure who to talk to or what to talk about. But with Sergio beside him, helping him into and out of conversations, whispering private jokes in his ear, guffawing at the jokes Luka made, Luka had fun. 

And Luka was proud to have Sergio with him. He watched Toni introduce everyone to his girlfriend with this look like, ‘She’s the best person in the world and she loves _me _,’ and he thought maybe, in some future where he was braver, that maybe he’d get to do that with Sergio; to take him around and tell people, ‘This is my boyfriend.’

Dani eventually pulled Sergio away to have a loud conversation in Spanish, both of them laughing with Lucas and Isco, Sergio making big, clumsy gestures with his hands as he talked fast and excited, clearly telling a story and clearly drunk. Toni and Carlos pulled Luka into a ‘midfielders’ picture, and the three of them talked about how much they were dreading playing with other midfielders. Even without Sergio, Luka didn’t feel as awkward as he expected. It wasn’t _just _Sergio that made him comfortable, he realized. It was the fact that Luka was more comfortable in his skin than he’d ever been. 

Karim pulled Luka away from Toni and patted him heavily on the back, then kept his arm on Luka’s shoulder. “Thanks for all the assists, Lukita,” he said, using the nickname Sergio gave him that has somehow caught on in the locker room.

“Thanks for finishing them.” Luka swallowed. “I’m, um, really lucky I got to play with you.” 

He’d tried not to think about it too much, but he was pretty sure Karim might suspect he and Sergio were together. He’d heard Sergio call Luka babe when he got injured, had seen the way they interacted then, too focused on the moment to consider the fact that they were surrounded by people. Sergio had told Luka Karim had noticed everything and hadn’t seemed to care, but Luka had still been wary the next time they’d been in the shower at the same time, and then later when they were doing drills together. He’d waited for Karim to sneer at him or say something or treat him different, but it had never happened. And maybe Karim didn’t even know, but--but maybe he _did, _and he was still hugging Luka now, still smiling down at him, and still raising his beer to tap against Luka’s. 

Karim got called away, then, and Luka smiled tensely at him and tried to think about all the places he could see Karim again; all the reasons he knew this wasn’t a goodbye.

Isco wandered up to Luka and nodded at him, and Luka greeted him back. 

Luka knew Isco, who was a great player himself, had a hard time accepting that he didn’t have a starting spot because of Luka.“Thank you for letting me be your captain,” he told him. 

“Thank _you, _Luka. I’m really glad I got to learn from you.” And then he wandered away, like his words didn’t make Luka want to cry and beg Zidane to let him stay, even if it was just as an assistant coach or an equipment manager or a grounds worker. 

Luka tried to talk with every guy on the team. To soak in his time with them; to tell them, either directly or with his eyes, that he’d loved playing with them, that he’d miss them, that he couldn’t imagine fitting into another team like he did this one.

Every guy he talked to said kind, flattering things that Luka wished he could write down to remember later. Things he almost never liked to hear, but that right now felt precious and special and fleeting; things he wanted to pack around his heart for when he got scared and unsure and wobbly. 

It was late by the time guys started to head home. Luka stood by the door so he wouldn’t miss anyone leaving. He said goodnight to Lucas, who was stumbling drunk and leaning heavily on his girlfriend’s shoulder as they walked out the door, and then realized the house was mostly empty. He barely had time to wish Sergio was there to hug him before Sergio was there, wrapping an arm around Luka’s shoulders and pulling him roughly into his side, crushing him close and tight, and Luka let himself curl into Sergio and drop his painful, too-wide smile and try to commit every part of the last two days to memory. 

Back in the dorm, Luka stripped out of his clothes, distracted and thoughtful and still feeling clingy, bittersweet sadness, when Sergio grabbed his elbow, spun him around, and picked him up with two hands under his ass. Luka let out a little surprised noise, but it was instinct to put his legs around Sergio’s waist, to settle into Sergio’s grip and wrap his hands around Sergio’s shoulders. 

“Stop being sad,” Sergio said plaintively, burying his head in Luka’s neck and licking. “We _won. _”

“I know,” Luka said. “I’m just--”

“I know,” Sergio said, serious and quiet, and Luka believed him. There was no doubt in Luka’s mind that Sergio knew what was going through Luka’s head without Luka having to tell him. “And it’s okay to be sad, and to miss your team, and I seriously can’t even think about the fact that I don’t get to play with you next year.” He bit the tendon of Luka’s shoulder, then pressed a wet, noisy kiss to his throat. “But we won a fucking _trophy_ together, Luka. I want to celebrate with you.”

The night before, when they’d gotten back to their hotel room after the match and the celebrations, Sergio and Luka had hugged each other so tight and long that Luka had thought he would fall asleep on Sergio’s shoulder. They’d eventually pulled back to take their shirts off, and had crawled into bed and tangled themselves back together, said I love you, and gone to sleep. Luka had slept more deeply than he had in a long time, had woken up groggy and disoriented because he’d been so out of it. 

“Let’s fuck with out medals on,” Sergio said against Luka’s throat, his voice playful and hot. 

“Shut up, we’re not doing that,” Luka laughed, slapping at Sergio’s shoulder. “You’re so stupid.” 

“Just for you, babe,” Sergio said nonsensically, making Luka laugh more. "Come on, I know you want me," Sergio said in a jokingly sexy voice, circling his hips against Luka's.

“Okay, _fine, _” Luka said, making his voice sound put out while his dick was hardening in his shorts. “Put me down, though." Sergio let Luka slide down his body, let his feet settle on the ground, and then before Luka could even think about stepping towards the bed, he leaned down to fuck into Luka’s mouth with his tongue, kissing Luka deep and dirty and starving, mumbling things that Luka could only half understand against his lips. “Love you...hottest fucking...baby, Lukita, you...”

They both pulled away panting after a while. Looked at each other with wide, full eyes, the moment thick with feeling and heat. 

Then Sergio broke into a smile, picked Luka back up, and tackled him down to his back on the bed.

And then suddenly what had been intense and scalding and heavy with emotion turned into fooling around, fumbling and drunk and silly, laughing about nothing but being together, cracking up so hard they couldn’t keep their mouths on each other.

They got off eventually--just hand jobs, uncoordinated and lazy, both of them taking forever to come because they kept getting distracted, laughing into each others mouths or biting at any places on each other’s body they could reach or tickling each other until they were rolling away to escape. 

Luka’s orgasm, when it finally came, was light and easy. It wasn't very strong; felt like a conclusion, a release of tension more than a huge wave of pleasure, but he melted into Sergio afterwards. Barely had the strength to keep his hand around Sergio's hot, hard length as he blinked sleepily up at him, watched his mouth drop open a little as he huffed out short little breaths and came in Luka’s palm. 

Sergio reached over the side of the bed for one of their shirts, half cleaned them up, and then pulled Luka close, Luka’s head on his arm and Luka’s nose in his chest. It wasn’t a good position for sleeping. Luka would be burning hot, his breaths humid and stale because he was smashed so close to Sergio. Sergio’s arm would fall asleep from the weight of Luka’s head. 

Luka mumbled something to Sergio about it, and then pushed himself even closer and fell asleep.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! This is a long one, with a long author's note at the end. I hope you guys have enjoyed this fic, and that this last chapter makes you happy!

Spring

Luka got the email in his morning class. He was sleepy and moody after he and Sergio had stayed up late the night before studying for an exam in their bio class; slouched in his seat and blinking at the professor as he half listened to her lecture, when a new email notification popped up on his laptop screen. 

He glanced at it, expecting the school newsletter or some business announcing a sale, and had to lean forward to make sure he was really awake when he saw who it was from and read the subject line. 

He sucked in a breath through his nose and his fingers shook as he traced them across the trackpad of his laptop. He heard Sergio shift beside him, the wheels of his chair sliding across the carpet so he could lean in to see what Luka was looking at.

Luka tilted his laptop toward Sergio and glanced over at him in time to watch his eyes trail sideways as he read the subject line, then to see his eyes widen with maybe more genuine joy and excitement than Luka had ever seen on his face. 

“Open it!” Sergio mouthed urgently, his whole body moving with half-contained eagerness. 

Luka turned back to his computer, and read the email notification again: it was from Luka’s new agent, Kieron, and the subject was “Offers from Spanish Clubs."

He paused, shaky, and sucked in a breath as a flare of anxiety tightened his chest. This was what Luka had spent most of his life wanting, and it still seemed impossible that he could have everything he had with Sergio and also get this. And it was only April, which seemed a little early to start getting real, concrete offers. And maybe the offers were terrible, low wages with clubs no one had ever heard of in towns that Sergio wouldn’t want to live in. 

Sergio scooted closer, until his shoulder was pressed to Luka’s over the arms of their chairs, and they grabbed for each other’s hands at the exact same time, wrapping their fingers around each other’s palms. Luka looked over to Sergio, held his eyes, which were reassuring and confident, and even though they couldn’t talk without their professor--who they both knew from experience could hear whispers even from the very back row of the classroom--scolding them, he felt like he could hear Sergio’s voice in his head, reminding him that Kieron knew what kind of contract Luka wanted, and that he’d been confident he could get it for Luka, and that Zidane had told Luka he could trust Kieron. Telling Luka that last semester he’d played the best football Sergio had ever seen and had won a trophy with his team and had gotten decent grades, and that every team in Spain would love to have him.

So--so maybe it was real. 

Sergio rubbed his thumb firmly into the palm of Luka’s hand, and Luka held on to him, turned back to his computer, and opened the email.

Hi Luka,

Hope your semester is going well. I’ve been in contact with a few first and second division teams in Spain, as we discussed, and there’s been a lot of interest in your contract. Below are a few of the best offers so far. Keep in mind that we can negotiate terms later. Please call me once you’ve had time to look them over so we can discuss.

-Kieron

And then, below Kieron’s message, was a list of three teams whose names Luka actually recognized. Not Real Madrid or Barca, but teams that played against them; that Luka knew about from watching La Liga with Sergio every weekend. Teams that were good, and that had good players--players who were famous. And next to the name of each team were numbers--years and fees and salaries that made Luka’s eyebrows fly up. 

He turned to Sergio, who was looking at Luka with bright, shiny eyes, this helpless smile on his face, and he wanted to climb in Sergio’s lap and kiss him, wanted to bury his face in Sergio’s neck and then spend hours talking with him about the lives that they’d already spent so much time planning and that it finally looked like they could actually have. 

Sergio squeezed Luka’s hand and then let it go to pull his own computer into his lap. He started typing, his fingers clicking fast across the keys, and Luka looked back to his inbox and waited for an email from Sergio. 

They’d started emailing in class after they’d gotten in trouble for talking three days in a row, and at this point they had a long chain of emails and replies. Sergio’s email came on top of one he’d sent in their night class yesterday detailing all the things he wanted to do with Luka when they got back to the dorm. Today’s message, thankfully, didn’t get Luka hard in the middle of a lecture, but it made him smile so hard he had to put his hand over his mouth so his professor didn’t notice: “SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU, LUKITA!!!!”

***

Luka called his sister on the walk back to their dorm. 

A week after Luka and Sergio had won the final, he’d woken up to a voicemail from Diora. She’d been crying in a way he recognized as angry, her voice hard and determined as she talked through little sobs and deep breaths. She said she’d asked their parents about Luka coming home for Christmas and they’d told her what had happened all those weeks ago: that he'd told them he was gay, and that now they were pretending he didn't exist. “Luka,” Diora had said on her voicemail, her voice wobbling. “I’m so sorry they did that to you.” She’d let out this sob that had made Luka’s chest ache like all his ribs were getting ready to break, and then she’d steadied her voice, and he could picture her rolling her shoulders back and lifting her chin, always so stubborn. “I really want to meet your boyfriend,” she’d said, and that had actually made Luka cry.

He’d introduced Sergio to her on Skype the next day, and almost cried again as Sergio told her, “Thank you for being here for Luka.” 

Now, Luka talked to his sister at least once a week. They’d never been very close before, because Luka was six years older and had spent his whole life playing football, not playing at home with his sister like most kids would, but she’d become one of his two favorite people, and the first person he wanted to call to tell about the offers he got. 

Luka wished he could call his parents and tell them about his contract and have them cry with how happy they were for him. He wished he could tell his dad thank you for pushing him to get here, and thank his mom for always taking care of him. More than anything, he wished he could say, “Thanks to my parents always supporting me,” the way he’d heard so many successful people do. But his parents had only ever supported him conditionally, and in the last few months, Luka had finally started to stop feeling that like an open wound. 

He’d reached out to his parents twice since they hung up on him. Once with a picture of him holding up the trophy from the state finals, and once to say Merry Christmas. His dad had sent a thumbs up emoji in response to the trophy, and his mom had said “Merry Christmas” back, and both responses made Luka feel almost worse than no response would have. 

So he didn’t bother to tell them about the contract offers, just called Diora and listened to her scream and cheer and ask Luka when he could buy her a car and whether she could move in with him and Sergio in Spain. 

“Hmm, let me ask him,” Luka said, turning to Sergio who was walking beside him and watching him talk with an affectionate smile on his face. “She wants to know if she can live with us,” he told Sergio. 

“Sure,” Sergio shrugged, then leaned closer to the phone and said loudly, “She can be our live-in maid.” 

Diora swore at Sergio in Croatian so loudly that Luka had to pull the phone away from his ear, and Sergio laughed and swore back, using the first Croatian word Luka had taught him, which was also probably the most important word to Sergio’s vocabulary. “Fuck you!” 

Luka laughed, and listened to Diora and Sergio do the same.

Luka hung up with Diora as Sergio unlocked the door to their dorm. He’d just slid his phone into his pocket and stepped into the room when Sergio picked him up by his hips and carried him to the bed, then threw him down. Luka raised an eyebrow up at Sergio as he stripped his shirt off and flexed his abs. 

“Need to remind you how good I am to you so you don’t decide to leave me and focus on football, no?”

Luka shook his head even though he knew Sergio was joking. “No,” he said sincerely, holding Sergio’s eyes, and Sergio slumped just a little, tension falling out of his shoulders. “But you should reward me for getting a contract that I can buy you a house with, don’t you think?”

Sergio smiled down at him like a wolf, sharp and smart. He stepped out of his pants, then tugged Luka’s jeans off while Luka pulled off his own shirt, then he bent down to kiss Luka deeply on the mouth. Luka grabbed at Sergio’s shoulders, trying to pull him down on top of him, but Sergio pulled away with another smacking kiss. Then, in a supple, effortless movement so quick Luka almost couldn’t follow it, he brought a knee onto the bed beside Luka’s head and shifted himself so he was kneeling above Luka’s face, his balls brushing against Luka’s nose as he shifted, the smell and warmth of him everywhere, and then he folded himself over and sucked Luka’s cock into his mouth. 

Luka had no experience outside of Sergio, but he knew their sex life was exceptionally good. “We have really good sex, right?” he’d asked Sergio a few weeks ago, after Sergio had spent an hour fucking him right to the edge and then back, until Luka came, sobbing into Sergio’s sheets and untouched and so hard it hurt. 

Sergio had given him a look like he was crazy, and then laughed when he saw that he was being serious. “Best sex of my life,” he’d said, rolling into Luka and biting at his lips. “I promise you, babe, it’s not fucking normal how good it is with us.” 

Every time with Sergio was a like a revelation, even when they were doing something they’d done a ton of times before, because Sergio always acted like making Luka come as hard as possible was the most rewarding task in the world, and Luka felt the same, and because everytime he touched Sergio and got touched by him, he knew he was touching the one person on earth who was everything he wanted and needed, who loved Luka more than anyone else, who he was going to spend the rest of his life laughing and getting off and just living with. 

But even by those standards, having Sergio suck his cock and fuck into his mouth from above was amazing. Sergio’s dick in his mouth was heavy and hot and big, his balls, from this angle, nudged against Luka’s lips every time he pushed deep into Luka’s throat, making Luka swallow desperately around him, his eyes watering, his mind clearing out of anything but Sergio. And Sergio’s lips suckled at Luka’s cock, wet and teasing and so fucking precise, playing with all the most sensitive places on Luka’s dick one after the other, in exactly the way that felt best. 

Luka laid back on the bed and let his hips relax and his thighs fall apart, just letting Sergio take him apart. He knew Sergio would make him come without him having to push for it, so he relaxed and opened his throat to take Sergio’s cock as deep as he could, moaning around every inch of him. 

They came at the same time, which Luka always loved. He panted around Sergio’s dick and clenched his abs and brought his knees up around Sergio’s ears as he thrust shallowly into his mouth, and Sergio fucked into his throat until he was choking on his dick and his cum, which made them both come even harder. 

Sergio shifted a bit, pulling gently out of Luka’s mouth, and Luka loosened his jaw to let him go, giving his cock one last fond lick before dropping his head back onto the pillows, closing his eyes, and heaving out a sigh. 

Sergio made a matching sound and buried his face in the crease of Luka’s thigh, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there.

Luka reached up to rub Sergio’s hip and then tensed his neck to press a kiss to whatever part of Sergio he could reach, and startled a bit when his lips landed on the place where Sergio’s balls met his body, just a breath below his ass. Luka had grabbed at Sergio’s ass during sex, but he’d never fingered Sergio or anything, and he was worried, for a minute, that Sergio wouldn’t like Luka getting so close to his hole, but Sergio just nuzzled Luka’s thigh and made a contented sound, then dropped a few mind numbing, wet kisses to Luka’s balls and soft, sensitive cock before heaving himself off of Luka. 

Luka opened his eyes and whined, reaching for Sergio, but he was already getting back in bed, right up against Luka, his head at the top of the bed next to Luka’s this time. 

Luka pulled him closer and pressed his face against the warmth of his chest and enjoyed Sergio’s arms, which were always tight around him after sex. 

“Hey,” Sergio said after a while. “If you ever want to top me, you can.”

Luka turned his head fast to look up at Sergio with lowered eyebrows. “What?” He asked, bewildered. “Why would I...what?”

It had taken Luka a long time to come to terms with it, but at this point he'd accepted his sexuality as it was. He loved Sergio’s cock in his mouth and his ass. He could come just from fingers or a dick rubbing his prostate. He loved being under Sergio, held down, squirming and whining and clenching his ass around Sergio. And sometimes he liked riding Sergio; sitting on his lap and moving up and down on his cock and looking down at Sergio as his eyes got unfocused, like he was drunk on the sight of Luka on top of him. But that was as close to topping as he’d ever really thought about getting. He knew it would make him unmasculine, in a lot of people's eyes--the fact that he would rather be fucked than fuck--but Sergio had never once made him feel that way. Sergio, Luka knew, loved their sex life. And yeah, Sergio had a great ass, but Luka loved being on the bottom, and the thought of fucking Sergio was weird and made him nervous and wasnt even all that appealing, compared to all the other things they did. 

“I know you've never done it before,” Sergio said. “It feels good, and I want you to be able to try it, if you want.”

Luka bit his lip, still at a loss. “Do you want me to?” he asked Sergio. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Sergio said casually. “Everything with you is good.”

“Have you done it before?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“It was fine,” Sergio shrugged. When Lika frowned at him, he blanched. “You know I like being on top. But with you--”

Luka grabbed Sergio’s arm and pulled him over until he was lying on Luka’s chest. “I like you being on top, too.” He kissed Sergio’s nose. “Thank you, but I would rather have you inside me.”

***

As Luka walked across the stage to get his diploma and shake the hand of the president of the university, he listened to Sergio cheer even though everyone had been told to wait until the end to applaud, and smiled with his mouth closed, trying to look halfway put together as a photographer took a shot of him holding up his diploma at the edge of the stage, and thought about last year.

Almost exactly twelve months ago, Luka had gotten off a plain in Croatia and fallen apart in his mom and sisters’ arms. He’d barely finished a semester that had felt like running through water, and at the time, finishing school and being happy while he did it had seemed like something that would never happen. 

And if he had thought about this moment, he would have always imagined his mom and dad waiting to hug him after the ceremony, to tell him how proud they were; how much they loved him. 

The blank space they’d left in his life was painful, especially at moments like this, but it was bearable. Because Luka had never really thought being honest about himself would feel so good, but in the last few months, he’d realized for the first time in his life how nice it was like to have a weight pulled off his shoulders; to live without a veil between him and the rest of the world. And because Serio made it bearable. Luka knew without a doubt Sergio would be waiting outside for him after the ceremony, huge, proud smile on his face, to pick him up in a hug and murmur sweet and then maybe dirty things in his ear. 

After waiting through another half of the alphabet and finally getting out of the hot, sweaty gym into the greenspace outside, he found Sergio right away, looking so hot Luka wanted to lick him in tight black slacks and a crisp white button up. He was turned half away from Luka, talking to a woman, leaning down to hear what she was saying over the noise of the crowd, and Luka drug his eyes off the way Sergio’s pecs and biceps looked absolutely filthy in his shirt to look at the woman, do a double take, and realize it was his sister. 

Luka stopped for a second, and one of the other graduates bumped into him from behind, and he wasn’t even sure if he apologized before he started jogging toward Sergio and Diora. 

They noticed him when he was a few feet away, both of their heads turning at the same time. 

“Luka!” Diora said, taking a step forward and opening her arms to wrap him in a hug. 

“What are you doing here!” Luka asked, feeling breathless as he pulled her into his chest. 

“Watching you graduate, obviously,” she laughed in his ear, pulling back to look at him but keeping her hands on his shoulders. “I told Serigo I wouldn’t believe they gave you a diploma unless I saw it for myself,” she said, nodding at Sergio.

Luka turned his head to meet Sergio’s eyes and found him looking a little wobbly. “I invited your family,” he said seriously. “I wrote a letter, and I really hoped...” he swallowed. “I’m sorry, Luka.” 

Diora patted Luka on the shoulder and then dropped her hands, and Luka stepped away from her and pressed himself into Sergio. Sergio melted into him, pushing his face into Luka’s hair and running his hands up Luka’s back. “Thank you,” Luka said into Sergio’s neck, swallowing around the thickness in his throat and pulling back enough to look up at Sergio’s face. He kept one arm around Sergio’s neck and reached the other up to cup his cheek. “I’m just glad that I have you here,” he told him. 

“And me, right?” Diora chirped.

Luka rolled his eyes. “I guess,” he said, and then got up on his toes and pressed his lips to Sergio’s. 

He felt it move through Sergio’s body--felt him stiffen, and pause, and then grab onto Luka even tighter. 

Luka and Sergio hadn’t kissed, or held hands, or done anything that would make it obvious they were together, out in public before, but Luka had seen Sergio looking at him like he wanted to claim him, had noticed Sergio pulling back, stopping himself from ducking down to kiss Luka. And Luka was just--over that. 

Luka was being brave, but he wasn’t going to make out with Sergio in front of his sister, not to mention in front of the other hundreds of people milling around on the lawn, so he pulled away from Sergio, who tried to lean down into him to keep their lips together, after a few seconds. 

Sergio blinked his eyes open and stared down at Luka with this look of just-- awe on his face, and Luka just looked back up at him with no idea what his own face looked like. 

“Shit,” Diora said from beside them, “you guys are even worse in person.”

That night, they were all sitting on the floor of Sergio and Luka’s dorm eating take out and making each other laugh. 

Sergio, Diora had told Luka, had offered to book a hotel for Diora, and Luka’s parents if they wanted to come, and to buy their plane tickets. Diora had bought her own ticket, using, she said smugly, her allowance from their parents, and had declined a hotel. “I’ll just sleep in your guys’ extra bed,” she’d said casually, making Luka blush. So she had her bag sitting next to what was supposed to be Luka’s bed, but that Luka couldn’t even pretend to remember the last time he’d slept in. 

“Luka, you have to read the letter Sergio sent mom and dad,” Diora said, tossing her hair over shoulder and arching an eyebrow at Sergio. “It’s ridiculous. ”

Luka glanced at Sergio, who was glaring at Diora. “Why?” Luka asked, looking between them. 

“Nothing,” Sergio said. 

“I think it made mom cry--” Diora started, then cut herself off at Luka’s grimace. “Not like that! I mean, I think it made her sort of happy to know you had someone who loved you that much.” 

Luka swallowed. He tried and failed to imagine his mom being in any way happy for him and Sergio. Then tried and failed to figure out what Sergio could have wrote to make Diora even suspect that their mom felt that way. “Can I read it?” he said, looking up at Sergio. Sergio groaned, throwing his head back, and Diora laughed and reached for her phone. Luka squeezed Sergio’s thigh. “I don’t have to,” he decided, looking back to Diora and shaking his head. “I already know he loves me,” he said smugly, just to make her pretend to gag. 

“Sergio,” Diora said seriously, fixing her best little sister give me what I want eyes on him. “Please will you show him?”

Sergio sighed heavily, shifting his hips to pull his phone out of his pocket. “You can read it if you want,” he said to Luka, scrolling through his phone and then handing it over with an email open on the screen. “It’s stupid, though.” 

It wasn’t stupid. 

Mr. and Mrs. Modric,

Hello, this is Sergio Ramos, your son’s roommate and boyfriend. We met when you visited Luka in November. 

I’m writing to invite you to Luka’s graduation next month. I’ve attached details and links to a few potential flights. I would be happy to buy plane tickets for you and Diora, if it would help get you guys here. I know you haven’t spoken to Luka recently, and that’s been really hard for him. I’m not going to defend your son’s sexuality, or to try to convince you your love and support is important to Luka, because that shouldn’t need to be done. I just want to tell you how I feel about Luka, and I hope it will remind you how much you love him, too. 

I fell in love with him in training. I know that you’ve watched Luka play football much more than I have, so I won’t describe that to you. But I don’t think you know what it really means to be on a team with him. He drives his teammates, pushes them and helps them and works for them, and then acts like it’s nothing when they fail him. He makes everyone around him laugh just by laughing himself. He works so hard that some nights he can barely walk back to our dorm, but he doesn’t even frown about it, doesn’t rub at his muscles or complain, just keeps moving. 

When I first joined the team here, I didn’t know anyone. I can’t say Luka was friendly to me right away, but he was there whenever I needed him. He helped me figure out how to work with the team, he made me feel better when my dog died, and he eventually gave in and became my best friend. 

I want to give Luka every good thing in the world, because he’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted. He makes me laugh all the time, he makes me feel safe, he always knows exactly what I need. He gives so much love to other people and keeps nothing for himself. 

Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to get you here for his graduation. I’m sure you know how much it would mean to him.

Sincerely,

Sergio Ramos

Summer

Right after graduation, Luka signed a contract with a team right outside of Madrid. Sergio came with Luka to tour the facilities, walk around neighborhoods near the training grounds, and look at houses. They chose a cozy, open plan home just a mile from the grounds, made a down payment using Luka’s signing bonus, and then flew to Seville and spent the rest of the summer with Sergio’s family. 

Luka was learning Spanish fairly quick, but he still spent a lot of the time in Sergio’s parents house--which was always full of family friends and distant relatives--understanding absolutely nothing. He’d had some good conversations with Sergio’s parents, who knew a tiny bit of English and were patient enough to talk slowly and to help Luka figure out words he needed to use and didn’t know. But when Sergio’s family started talking to each other in loud, shockingly fast Spanish, Luka listened to their voices and tried to read their faces, and just soaked up the feeling of family that was so thick in the house. 

Real Madrid and Barcelona played each other in the preseason. Luka’s new team had sent out a remote training regimine, but they weren’t required to be in Madrid for another week, and Luka was waiting to go back until Sergio flew out in two days, soaking up being around Sergio and trying not to think about how hard it was going to be to go without seeing him for a whole semester. 

Sergio’s family spent the whole week leading up to the game getting ready. Calling all their friends to make sure they were coming over to watch, cooking so much food it made Luka’s stomach hurt just to think about it, cleaning every inch of the house over and over, and constantly making fun of Luka for supporting Barca.

Before he met Sergio, Luka hadn’t even really felt all that strongly about Barca. He’d preferred them to Real Madrid, but when Sergio had asked him which team he liked better when they first met, he probably wouldn’t have been able to name more than two Barca players. And after watching so many Real Madrid matches with Sergio over the last two semester, he honestly liked them better. But no way could he tell Sergio or his family that, when they got so much joy out of giving him shit. 

When the game started, Sergio drug Luka to the huge armchair in the living room, sat down, and then pulled Luka down and curled around him, pulling Luka half into his lap, wrapping his arm around the front of Luka’s shoulders, and leaning his chin against Luka’s hair. 

“Um,” Luka said. Everyone in Sergio’s family knew about them. Sergio had introduced Luka as “mi novio” so many times Luka never forgot the words, even when other Spanish phrases constantly dissapeared off the tip of his tongue. Sergio was touchy with Luka the same way he’d been when they’d trained together in front of the team--affectionate and tactile, but nothing that would make it obvious they were more than friends. And Luka had kissed Sergio at his graduation a few months ago, in front of his sister and a hundred strangers, but that had been fast and spontaneous; not something he had much time to think about. 

As the game started, Luka had plenty of time to think about this. Sergio’s arm around him was warm, his grip on Luka’s arm loose but meaningful. Looking at them, there was no way for Sergio’s family to forget that Luka belonged to Sergio, and that Sergio belonged to him. 

Luka took deep breaths and waited to start feeling the weight of people’s eyes on them, to get in his head and start wondering if every Spanish sentence he couldn’t understand was about him and Sergio, and how it was wrong, or they shouldn’t do it around the kids, or Sergio shouldn’t be doing it with Luka, period. 

But those thoughts just kind of floated through his head, and then away, and halfway into the first half, he was lying back against Sergio, so relaxed that only Sergio’s family's occasional loud cheers kept him awake. 

When the ref blew the whistle for halftime, he tipped his head back and looked up at Sergio, who shifted slightly under him to give Luka a better angle to meet his eyes without straining his neck. “Do you need to get up?” Luka asked sleepily. 

Sergio smiled softly, and then brushed Luka’s hair off his forehead and pressed a kiss there. “No, babe. Stay comfy.” 

Luka slouched back, letting himself melt even further into Sergio’s body. He watched the halftime analysts talk for a minute, and then rolled his head against Sergio’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, his voice blown open; weepy and honest and wet. 

Sergio pulled him closer and pressed his face into Luka’s hair. He took in a breath that Luka knew was meant to steady himself so he could be strong for Luka when he said, “You’re going to be having so much fun playing football it will feel fast," his voice almost, but not quite, steady. 

Sergio kept trying to cheer Luka up, to act like their semester apart was going to be now big deal, but when Sergio’s parents and Luka dropped Sergio off at his terminal at the airport, he hugged both his parents with wet eyes, and then took in a shaky breath before he turned to Luka. Luka looked up at him and tried not to cry, because he didn’t want to make it harder for Sergio or himself. Sergio looked at him, and for a second Luka thought it was going to be okay; that they would give each other quick hugs and kisses and then say bye, and that Luka could make it to Sergio’s parents car and maybe even to Sergio’s old room in their house, where he’d be staying for two more days, before he broke down. But then Sergio stepped into him, laid his forehead on his shoulder, and sobbed. 

Luka played his first professional match exactly a month later. He came off the field with the rest of his teammates after ninety minutes of play he was proud of, to more cheering than he’d ever heard in his life, and felt like he was flying. He called Sergio in the middle of the locker room, sitting shirtless on the bench outside his locker, his muscles feeling more worked over than they ever had after a match. 

“Holy shit!” Sergio yelled, picking up the phone after half a ring. “Tell me how you feel.”

“So so good, Ser. I can’t believe this is real.”

“I knew you were going to do this the first time I saw you play,” Sergio said. “I am so happy for you, babe. Pretend I’m hugging you, okay?”

He hung up with Sergio to take a shower, promising to call Sergio back as soon as he got home, and glanced down at his phone screen as he went to put it back in his locker.

There was a text from his parents. It was in the group chat Luka had with his mom and dad, which hadn’t been used in months. 

Luka clicked it open with shaky fingers, and read the message his dad had sent. “We watched your match. Great game.” Luka took a screen shot and sent it to Sergio, and had no idea how to feel. He set his phone down, showered, and came back out. Sergio had sent him a huge cloud of emojis: angry and confused faces, then a few smiles and a series of question marks.

Even though his parents had treated him wrong, Luka would always want a relationship with them. But somewhere in the last few months, he’d rebuild his life without them as his foundation. Now, he had Sergio, and Diora, and Sergio’s parents, and all the other members of Sergio’s family, who from the moment he met them had treated him like it made sense that he was there. 

He got dressed, laughed at a joke one of his teammates told, texted, “Thanks,” to his parents, and then called Sergio again as he headed to his car. 

Fall

There was a scene in some American sitcom Luka’d watched when he was young where a husband and wife looked at their schedules and talked about which night of the week they were going to have sex. They played laughter over it, and even though he was a kid, Luka had got the message that planning sex was supposed to be the least sexy thing in the world. 

He and Sergio had never planned it when they lived together, because they’d both been pretty much on the same page about wanting to have sex whenever they got a chance. Now, though, they were across the ocean from each other and it’d been almost two months since Sergio flew back to school, and Luka knew they were still on the same page about how often they would like to be having sex, but there was time zones and school and football and also the ocean to worry about. 

So after two days of their schedules not matching up to talk on the phone, Luka woke up to a voicemail of Sergio groaning his name and a picture of Sergio’s abs covered in cum. 

He was staring at the picture, his mouth watering and his hand already slipping into his shorts, when he realized he’d missed his alarm and was running late for practice. He didn’t even have time to shower; just had to shove his half-hard dick into his workout shorts and then spend all of training trying not to think about the picture and get hard again. 

As soon as he was heading out of the locker room, he texted Sergio, even though he knew he was in class. “We have to talk tonight,” his first message said. “That picture was so hot.” 

Luka drove home, and when he parked in his driveway he had a response from Sergio. “in 2 hours?” 

“Okay,” Luka wrote, racking his mind trying to come up with a way to distract himself for two hours. “Be alone,” he added, just in case Sergio didn’t already know what he wanted to talk about. 

He went inside and dropped his keys by the door, then wandered to the fridge, opened it, and just stood there. I guess I could make a smoothie, he thought dispassionately, his cock hard just from the simple conversation with Sergio; the knowledge that in a couple hours, he’d get Sergio whispering filthy shit in his ear; would get to hear him touching himself and making noises as he came. 

Luka slammed the fridge shut and moved to lean against the counter, then just stared blankly at the kitchen island and felt his dick throb against his thigh and thought about how wrong that American sitcom was. 

The kitchen was beautiful--white tile and marble counters and stainless steel appliances--and it was huge. Luka had used the microwave, and the sink and the fridge, and that was about it. Sergio, when he got there, would put stuff on the counters, leave dirty dishes in the sink, cook things in the oven. He’d put stuff on the fridge--Luka didn’t even know what, but he knew that Sergio would find shit to hang up. Drawings his nieces made for him, or postcards from his parents, or novelty magnets, or probably fucking articles about Luka or something embarassing like that. All Luka had hanging up was a picture of him and Sergio that Sergio’s mom had taken over the summer, Sergio’s arm slung around Luka’s shoulders, his head turned to press a kiss to Luka’s cheek, Luka smiling this smile that shows everything he was feeling in the moment: happy and shy and perfect. 

Luka had known that being away from Sergio was going to be hard, especially after they’d spent basically every day of the past year together. But when he’d thought about it, it had been abstract. He’d known he’d be a lonely and miss sex and talking to Sergio, but he hadn’t realized that he’d miss him so constantly; that missing him would be something Luka could never stop thinking about. Every time something funny or annoying happened at practice, he wanted to be able to drive home to Sergio and tell him. When he watched TV or a movie or a match, he stacked pillows up on his couch so he could lean on them the way he would lean on Sergio, but they were cold and stiff and silent, and Sergio’s absence was like a physical pain. If Luka went out to eat at a good restaurant, his first thought was that he wanted to bring Sergio there with him. He could talk to Sergio on the phone, spend hours hearing about his day and joking with him about things, but there was nothing like having Sergio there, just around, his presence making Luka feel happy and safe and comfortable and home, and he wanted to be there for Sergio, too, to hug him after he had a long day and suck his cock for him and buy him a dog and do everything he could think of to make him happy. 

His kitchen with Sergio in it would be warm and bright and full, but without Sergio, it was just a kitchen that was way too nice for Luka’s cooking abilities. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket while he ran his eyes over the grey lines in the marble. 

“Start without me?” Sergio had texted him. “Just don’t come,” he sent right after. “I want to hear you.” 

Luka’s cock got fully hard again so fast he swayed against the counter, his knees twitching for a second, his mind getting hot and foggy.

“Okay,” he wrote back, and then, because there was no one around to see him, he ran back to his bedroom, stripping his clothes off and making sure the volume was all the way up on his phone.

By the time his phone rang two hours later, Luka had lube all over his cock, balls, hands, and stomach, three fingers inside of himself, and precum streaming from his cock. 

“Sergio,” he gasped as soon as he answered the phone and put it on speaker, fumbling with sticky, slippery fingers. 

“Fuck,” Sergio said, long and low. “I wasn’t sure if you were really doing it, but fuck, I can already tell. Tell me what you’re doing.” 

“Fingering myself,” Luka heaved, his breath hitching. “I had to stop touching my cock so I could wait for you.” 

“Yes, baby, you’re so good.” 

Luka heard the sound of springs, then a rustle of fabric, and he imagined Sergio shifting on the bed he and Luka had shared so many times. “Are you touching yourself?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy, his throat fucked up from two hours of moaning Sergio’s name into an empty room.

“Yeah, Luka,” Sergio sighed, sounding floaty and happy. They were quiet for a while, Luka panting and rubbing over his prostate and listening closely so he could hear Sergio’s hand move on his cock. “I never thought anyone would be better at giving me handjobs than myself,” Sergio said, “but I would kill for your hand on me right now. My cock doesn’t even like me anymore, you’re the only one who touches it right.” 

Luka whimpered, flexing his hand and imaging the heavy slide of Sergio’s cock in it, hot flesh and soft skin and the spongy, wet head. “I want you here so bad.” 

“Where would you want me to come, if I were there?” Sergio asked on a groan.

Everywhere, Luka thought, and it was true: when Sergio finished school and got to Spain, Luka wanted to spend days in bed just fucking drowning in Sergio’s cum, making Sergio feel good every way he knew how. But first: “In my ass,” he panted at Sergio, his cock leaking thickly onto his stomach, and he was going to come soon, hand on his dick or not. 

Sergio made a thick, breathy noise. “Babe,” he said. “I don’t know how you did this for two hours. I’m close.” 

“Me too, me too,” Luka whined. He swallowed, and slowly wrapped his hand around his dick, feeling like he was pushing himself closer to the edge of a cliff with every finger he wrapped around himself. “Please tell me I can come,” he asked Sergio, because he wanted to hear Sergio say it and because he knew Sergio would get off on hearing him ask.

Sergio made a noise like he’d been punched. “One more minute, baby,” he said, his voice getting high and wild like it always did just before he orgasmed. He let out three quick, sharp breaths, and Luka started to move his hand on his dick. He spread his fingers in his ass, stretching himself, the soreness reminding him of the stretch of Sergio’s cock. “Okay, okay, come,” Sergio said, his voice begging and desperate and so wobbly that Luka knew he was coming as he said it, and Luka clenched down on his fingers and sped his hand up on his cock and came in heavy, thick spurts up his chest. 

“You need to stop sending me presents,” Sergio said after, when they’d both cleaned up--which, for Luka, had grossly included wiping smears of lube off his phone screen--and were just lying in bed talking. 

“What did you get today?” Luka asked. 

“Cologne. It’s good, but what’s the point of wearing cologne if you’re not here to smell me? Plus, I know you’re living in a fucking mansion now or whatever--” Luka scoffed. It wasn’t a mansion, it was just a nice house. “But did you already forget how small our room was? I don’t have room for any more stuff.”

Luka smiled into the phone. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll keep the rest of your stuff here for you. But there are I think three more things on the way already.” 

Sergio groaned jokingly. “Having a rich older boyfriend is such a hassle,” he said, and that was so far from anything Luka ever thought he would hear about himself that he cracked up. 

Winter

Luka didn’t like making scenes. He liked being quiet, and making sure everyone got along, and trying not to disrupt anyone else’s day.

But even before Sergio stepped off the escalator and looked up at him, he knew there was no way he was going to get out of picking Sergio up at the airport without drawing attention. 

There was no way he couldn’t run to Sergio, tears wet on his cheeks, and jump up into the arms Sergio spread for him, dropping his suitcase like it was nothing. He wrapped his arms around Sergio’s shoulders and his legs around Sergio’s waist, and half-laughed half-cried into Sergio’s neck while Sergio did the same thing against his shoulder, his back shaking under Luka’s arms and his breath coming out in huffs. After a long moment Luka pulled back, and Sergio angled his head up, already knowing what Luka wanted, and Luka met him in a long, slow, way-too-dirty for the airport kiss. 

“Please go fast,” Luka begged when Sergio got his first finger inside him, back at their house, in their bed, their first night in the room Luka hoped they would spent years together in.

Sergio, who sometimes liked to draw things out in bed, to slow things down when Luka wanted to go fast, obeyed. He had a second finger inside Luka right after the first, and then added a third as soon as Luka asked for it. He twisted and stretched his fingers inside Luka, and brushed over his prostate a few quick times. 

“You good?” he asked Luka then, and Luka moaned a yes.

And then Sergio was pulling out, and then he was pushing back in, the stretch of his cock so much after Luka had gone months without it; opening Luka up until he felt sore and pulled apart and stuffed full. 

Sergio paused for a minute, and Luka looked over his shoulder to see him drench his right hand in lube. Then he leaned over Luka, his chest to Luka’s back, sweat already sticking between them, and reached under Luka’s hips to grab the head of Luka’s cock, his hand dripping wet. He made his fist shockingly tight, closing his fingers as he pulled them off the tip of Luka’s dick so that Luka had to force himself back into the tunnel of his hand with rough little thrusts, making squelching noises in the lube, forcing Sergio’s fingers apart just enough to get them wrapped around the sensitive, hot head of his cock. 

Luka grabbed at the arm Sergio had against his collarbone, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and digging them in until he could feel Sergio’ pulse. Sergio thrust quick and hard into him, right onto his prostate, forcing Luka’s hips to push forward into the tight grip of his hand, and Luka just gaped at the headboard and let his eyes roll back. 

“I’m gonna come fast,” he said, because he was already basically there. 

“Good,” Sergio huffed, picking up his thrusts and loosening his hips, getting a little less coordinated, “me too.” 

And then he came, a hot, wet slide inside of Luka, his hand gripping even tighter on Luka’s cock, until Luka was shaking with how intense it felt, and then Luka was coming, too, into the tight grip of Sergio’s hand. 

“Okay,” Sergio said, his breath wet against the back of Luka’s neck and his cock softening inside Luka as he gently pulled his hand off Luka’s cock. “Ready to go again?” 

Luka snored out a laugh. But honestly: "Yes."

By the time they were done going again and again and again, Luka felt like his flesh was melting off his bones, but in the best way possible. Like he could just turn into liquid and sink into the bed. 

He was on his side, his chest pressed to Sergio’s and his face just a breath away from Sergio’s. He blinked sleep away over and over so that he could just look at Sergio as Sergio did the same thing, both of them smiling these drunken, lazy smiles at each other, Sergio’s hand petting through his hair, his own arm twisted up behind Sergio so he could rub at Sergio’s scalp.

“I love you,” Sergio mumbled in English, and then Croatian, and then Spanish. 

Luka blinked in what felt like slow motion. “You too,” he said, in one of those languages, he was pretty sure, and then he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading this work! I think this is the last Modramos fic I'll write, at least for a while, and this is going to be a really long author's note because I have a lot to say haha. Feel free to ignore it!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos on this work or "Pick Me Up." I have always liked coming up with ideas for stories, but I am terrible at sticking with them. "Pick Me Up" and "Need You" are the only creative writing projects I've finished outside of a class, and it is thanks to all of your guys' support that I was able to push through writer's block, laziness, and busy-ness to finish these fics. And I'm so glad I did! Although neither work is perfect, I'm really proud of both of them, and so amazed that I managed to write a 70,000+ word story! So, thank you!
> 
> Special thanks to those of you who commented on either work, especially those of you who left a comment on most every chapter! It made me feel so special that you took time out of your day to let me know you were enjoying my writing, and I loved talking to you all! 🥰
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and please let me know what you thought of this last chapter! :)


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